


Romeo Whiskey Bravo Yankee

by Dan_Francisco



Series: RWBY in the Cold War [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - Cold War, Deviates From Canon, Gen, LGBTQ Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 105,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16326566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco
Summary: Ruby Rose finally has the chance to enter Beacon, and the possibility of fulfilling her ultimate dream of being a commissioned US Army officer, leading her very own tank crew. All she has to do is survive four years at the senior military academy.





	1. Welcome to Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 of Induction Week. Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long are introduced to Beacon Military Academy.

Beacon Academy. The place every aspirant warrior wanted to go. Overlooking the shores of California, Beacon was as pristine as it was legendary for producing the finest soldiers and officers the United States had ever seen. Ruby Rose had dreamed of joining the ranks of their cadets for years, of being a member of the Lighthouse Brigade. Today, she had her chance.

Her acceptance letter wasn't a form letter like she and her father had expected, but instead was a handwritten letter from Commandant Ozpin. Like Yang's, Ruby's letter congratulated her for being accepted to the ranks of Beacon, but also instructed her to appear on campus with her hair either cut short (in this case, anything below the neck was unacceptable) or kept back in a bun. She also was to arrive wearing a white t-shirt and khaki shorts, as well as with two pairs of comfortable athletic shoes. Further required was a pair of jeans to be worn only when ordered.

“Well,” Yang said, slinging her things onto her back, “here we are, Ruby.”  
“Oh, I'm so excited!” Ruby squealed, already fascinated by the twin howitzers posed out front.  
All around them, hundreds of other new arrivals could be seen, each uniform like them but still incredibly distinct. Senior cadets had already been dispatched, directing the new class to their positions and organizing them. The air was warm, typical of San Francisco weather, as the sun shone bright. A man clad in a US military uniform, sunglasses covering his eyes, approached Ruby and Yang.

“You two,” he said, holding a clipboard. “Names, please?”  
“Ruby Rose.”  
“Yang Xiao Long.”  
He checked his clipboard and marked them off, seemingly satisfied.  
“Alright,” he continued, “you're in Braeburn Hall. Know where that is?”  
“No, sir,” Yang said.  
“Don't call me sir,” he admonished, “I'm a sergeant. Go up that hill, second building on the left.”  
To emphasize which direction he meant, he gestured with his pen. Ruby turned, and saw two large, rectangular buildings built upon a nearby hill. She could see students and soldiers filing in and out of the building, some carrying things, others not. Ruby thanked the sergeant for helping them, and along with Yang, headed up to Braeburn Hall. Along the way, other soldiers and cadets like them moved past, neither really giving them a second thought. They must have had other things on their minds.

Entering Braeburn Hall, a bored-looking soldier pointed them to the right, informing them to head to the third floor. On the third floor, another sergeant led them to a room, which had been divided into two dorms. Somebody had already taken one room, and Yang was told to put her things in there. Ruby's side of the dorm was empty, and the sergeant told her she was lucky – most didn't often get the choice of which side. Ruby had heard these rumors before. Many believed that which side you had in your dorm dictated whether you would earn a commission or not, and superstition had it that the right side of any room always got a commission.

On one hand, Ruby wasn't inclined to believe in superstition. On the other...maybe she would need all the help she could get. At 17, she was one of the youngest students here, her acceptance already an oddity when most academies didn't even consider accepting a cadet until they were at least close to 18. After some internal debate, she set her things on the right. She wouldn't know whether she had made the right decision for four years.

Once they had finished putting their boxes and bags away, to be unpacked later should their room assignment change, the sergeant gave them a quick rundown of how to stand at attention and parade rest, both things Ruby and Yang had no knowledge of beforehand, and led them to another hall, where they lined up behind a long line of other cadets. A lone sergeant prowled the line, demanding they stand like boards unless they had to move forward.

As he paced the line, he took note of a cadet with blonde hair. He seemed nervous as the sergeant looked him over.  
“You,” he asked, “did you shave this morning?”  
“No, Sergeant,” he replied.  
“Oh,” the sergeant said, cracking a grin, “we're gonna have _fun_ with you, Cadet.”  
The sergeant moved away, criticizing another cadet for not standing straight enough, and slowly the line moved forward, down a short set of stairs, before eventually Ruby was near the front of the line. Just a few feet away, the blonde guy and another cadet, a girl with striking red hair tied neatly into a perfect bun, sprinted forward to a table, where two sergeants sat with clipboards and pens ready to go.

“Cadet Jaune Arc, reporting as ordered!”  
“Cadet Pyrrha Nikos, reporting as ordered!”  
“Nikos,” the sergeant behind the desk said, clicking her pen, “your company assignment is Bravo. Your dorm assignment is Braeburn Hall, room 17. Repeat that back.”  
“Bravo Company, Braeburn Hall, room 17, sergeant!”  
“Good. Go down those stairs. Arc, your company assignment is Bravo. Your dorm assignment is Braeburn Hall, room 17. Repeat that back.”  
“Bravo Company, Braeburn Hall, room 17, sergeant!”

The sergeant nodded, again instructing him to head down the stairs. Two nearby sergeants urged him to move faster, despite the fact he was already moving as fast as he possibly could without practically falling down the stairs. The sergeant that had been stalking the line ordered Ruby and Yang to run to the table, which they did, standing on two tape lines demarcating where they should stand.

“Cadet Ruby Rose, reporting as ordered!”  
“Cadet Yang Xiao Long, reporting as ordered!”  
“Rose,” the sergeant said, barely blinking, “your company assignment is Bravo. Your dorm assignment is Braeburn Hall, room 22. Repeat that back.”  
“Bravo Company, Braeburn Hall, room 22, sergeant!”  
“Good,” the sergeant said, marking something on her notepad off, “go down those stairs.”  
Ruby barely heard the sergeant relaying Yang's assignment to her, already moving as fast as her legs could take her down the stairs. She quickly joined another line, where sergeants with markers moved along the lines. They were writing on the backs of all the cadets, indicating their name, company and a number.

“Name and company?” a sergeant asked, approaching her with a marker.  
“Ruby Rose, Bravo,” Ruby said.  
“Just need the last name, Cadet,” she said. “Permission to touch you?”  
Ruby blinked, unsure what to say. After a while, she nodded, at which the sergeant presumably wrote her name and company on her back, as well as whatever arbitrary number she had been assigned. The line moved forward, where they now began to have their picture taken. Each cadet brought through the photobooth was given an embossed sheet of paper that had their name and company assignment on it, and then ushered on elsewhere.

Ruby's picture was soon taken, and then she was escorted to a table where numerous forms were laid out. There, a sergeant informed her to write down her academic history, emphasizing that she was to write legibly. Ruby took a form and a pencil, noting that the pencil's eraser was practically nonexistent. While filling out her information, she realized she had no idea what her GPA in highschool was. It had simply never come up for her, and she didn't think she would need to know it when heading to Beacon.

Eventually, she just had to guess, and wrote down what she thought her GPA probably was. It was better than leaving it blank, probably. She headed down the line, handing the form over to another soldier. It wasn't a sergeant. Maybe an officer? He shook his head, pointing to the form and an empty field.  
“Cadet, you can't expect us to know where you went to high school. Go back and fix it.”  
Ruby did so, quickly writing down the name of her high school and heading back to the officer, who again examined the form. He shook his head again, displeased.  
“Cadet,” he said, pointing to the same field, “I can't read this. Fix it.”  
Ruby apologized, and went back to fix it. Again, he handed the form off to the officer, feeling a massive pressure on her. Where was Yang? Ruby had been separated from her in all the chaos, and she could really use Yang's calming presence right about now.  
“I swear,” the officer muttered as he again examined the form, “if I find one more thing wrong with this, Cadet...”  
His vague threat of punishment went unanswered, as he placed the form into a box, saying to her, “Good enough. Go to that table, Cadet.”

Ruby headed to the aforementioned table, where several higher-ranking officers were seated. One of them was already engaged in conversation with another cadet, and both were grinning. This was...strange. One of the other officers noted Ruby heading for them, and began to collect a series of papers, placing them into a bag.  
“Here Cadet,” he said, handing her the bag, “what's your name?”  
“Cadet Ruby Rose,” she answered.  
“Alright, Rose,” he said, “this here's your Knowledge. It has all the information you need to know. Keep it safe. It also has your Cadet Manual and a few other things you'll need. How you doing so far?”  
“Uh,” Ruby said, not expecting him to be friendly, “I'm...I'm okay, I think. I just wish I knew where my sister was.”  
“I'm sure you'll see her again soon,” the officer said. “Good luck out there, Cadet.”

The brief moment of friendliness Ruby had with the cadre was broken by a couple sergeants heading to the table, ordering the four assembled there to head with them and form up. The four got into a line and were led into a hall, stopped, and ordered to study their Knowledge. Ruby brought up the bag and took the Knowledge sheet out, overwhelmed by the massive amount of information on it. Ranks, songs, history, information about the M16, campus traditions, and other things she didn't get to glance over before a sergeant ordered her to drop her Knowledge.

“Cadet,” she said, “why isn't your Knowledge in your bag?”  
“I didn't know it needed to be in there, sergeant.”  
“Put your Knowledge in your bag, Cadet.”  
“Yes, sergeant!”  
Ruby did as ordered, folding the Knowledge so it could be both read inside the bag and visible even with the other items inside cluttering her view. This too was deemed unacceptable, as the same sergeant grabbed her bag when she was done and held it in front of Ruby's face.  
“Does this look right to you, Cadet? How are you going to study your Knowledge if you can't read half of it? Get the rest of this crap out of your bag and unfold your Knowledge.”  
“Yes, sergeant!”

Right after she had done so and stuffed the manual and other papers into her pockets, the ad hoc squad moved out again, this time straight out of the hall they were in and across the campus. They marched inconsistently, much to the irritation of the sergeants present. Eventually, they arrived at a large building that nearby signs denoted as the campus clinic. There, they were told to go inside and wait to be seen by a nurse.

Ruby had had strong convictions about becoming a soldier – after all, it was what she had wanted to be since she was 12 – but now, being here, actually _living_ it? Knowing she was signing away four years of her life to an uncertain future? It terrified her. She sat alone in an examination room, the cold exam table chilling her bones even past her clothes. The walls seemed to close in on her, oppressing her every movement. Where was Yang? Where was the nurse? Was it too late for her to run away from it all? Eventually, a nurse came into the room, startling her. She and Ruby went over cursory details, asking her if here was anything Ruby was concerned about.

“Um, just one thing,” Ruby said, almost reconsidering saying anything at all even as the words tumbled out of her mouth.  
“What is it?”  
“I...I don't know if I can still do this.”  
The nurse nodded, clearly concerned. She didn't look military – maybe she was just part of the campus' civilian staff.  
“Would you like to speak to the chaplain?” the nurse asked.  
Not quite what she was looking for, but...well, it was better than nothing. Ruby wasn't even particularly religious, but maybe, just maybe, the chaplain could help her somehow. Ruby nodded, and she was led by the nurse out of the examination room to a small, private room, away from the general hubbub outside.

Once again, Ruby was alone, though the cold exam table had now been traded for a relatively comfortable chair. The clock on the wall was the only source of noise in the room, ticking away the seconds. Ruby wondered if the sergeants would go looking for her. Or maybe they knew she was talking to the chaplain? Not knowing drove her mad, and being alone in this room was just making it worse.

Two officers walked into the room. Remembering that it was common courtesy to stand when officers entered the room, Ruby shot up like a rocket, to which one of them just gestured for her to relax.  
“Slow down, Cadet,” he said, “no need to be formal right now.”  
The two sat down along with Ruby, opposite of her. One of them offered her a bottle of water, which she graciously accepted, taking sips of it as they introduced themselves as Cadet Colonel Milburn and Cadet Sergeant Major Robert.  
“Alright,” Milburn said. “What's going on, Cadet? I hear you're worried about something?”  
Ruby took a deep breath, before saying, “I just...I don't know if I can make it. I'm worried I'm making a mistake by being here.”  
“Ruby – do you mind if I call you Ruby?” Robert asked, to which Ruby shook her head. “You wouldn't have come here without a purpose. You wouldn't have applied if you didn't think you could do it.”  
“I don't know,” she said, “I'm scared. I'm so worried I'm going to mess it up.”  
“Rose, why did you want to come here?” Milburn asked.  
“I wanted to be a soldier,” she replied. “It's been my dream since I was a kid.”  
“So why give up on it now?”

Ruby sighed, taking a long drink of the water.  
“I don't think I know what I'm getting myself into.”  
“Ruby,” Robert said, “when I joined the Army, I didn't think I could do half the things I did. I joined the Rangers. I'm Airborne qualified. I led troops into battle in Grenada. I did it all because I had the willpower to do everything and anything possible, but it all started with having the same nervous feelings you do today. I walked into Fort Benning ready to run out screaming the next day, but I didn't.”  
“It's always a matter of how much you want it, Rose. I believe you have what it takes to succeed here, otherwise you wouldn't be here.”  
“OK,” Ruby said, taking another deep breath, finally feeling relaxed. “I can do this,” she said, more to herself than anything else.  
“Good,” Milburn said, “go ahead and rejoin your squad. Good luck, Rose.”

Ruby headed out of the room, thanking both Milburn and Robert for taking the time to talk to her and convince her she could do it. She found the rest of her tentative squad outside, waiting for her. She noticed the blonde guy she saw earlier, what was his name, Art? Either way, he had replaced one of the people she was marching with earlier, and they headed out to the campus' parade field.

Ruby noticed that, by now, the sun was getting lower, and the sergeants had them stop, standing still for some time. Eventually a bugle sounded from somewhere on campus, and they were ordered to stand and salute the flag. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby saw Art turn away from the flag. Where was he standing to?

The bugle call lasted for some time, and once it ended they were ordered to parade rest. Immediately, the sergeants escorting them descended upon Art.  
“Cadet Arc,” one of them said – that was his name! – staring directly into him. “What do you think you're doing?”  
“I don't know, sergeant.” he said, still standing away from the flag at a stark 90 degree angle to the rest of them.  
The sergeants didn't move for a while, and them moved on, ordering them to continue their march. Ruby wasn't sure if the sergeants were amazed at his honesty or if they were just so dumbfounded they literally had no response to Arc. The group was led to the parade field, and told to study their Knowledge while they waited, for what they weren't told.

After some time studying, one of the sergeants shouted for all cadets to drop their knowledge. Immediately following that, another voice shouted for all Alpha company cadets to run to them. They were aided in this by sergeants along the way urging them to run even faster. Seconds later, the call came out for Bravo cadets to form up at another voice. Ruby immediately sprinted as fast as she could to it, not even needing the encouragement of the other sergeants.

Various sergeants corralled them into rows, dividing them into three rows of four people each. Ruby's anxiousness melted away as she saw Yang by her side, with a black-haired girl next to her. The other one she had seen – was it Nikos? - was also in the row she was in. Would these be their final squads? She wasn't sure.

“Good evening, cadets,” someone at the front of the ranks said, “I am First Sergeant Geary. If I give you an order, you are to carry it out immediately and enthusiastically, is that understood?”  
“Yes, Sergeant!” they said.  
“WRONG!” another sergeant shouted. “Address your First Sergeant properly! FIRST. SERGEANT. Say it again!”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!” they repeated. A few sergeants nearby shook their heads.  
“I can't hear you!” First Sergeant Geary said.  
“Yes, First Sergeant!” they said, louder.  
“Don't worry,” she said, “we can fix this. Company, left face!”  
The sergeants reminded them that this meant turn to the left. First Sergeant Geary moved to be in front of the company again, and ordered them to begin marching. As they marched, she continually said, “On your left,” which was answered by the sergeants with “Ri- _ight_ ” three times, and then she switched it up with “Right, left” where the response was “So smooth!”. Most of the company didn't catch on to this rhythm. As they shook their heads and lamented the state of their company, the sergeants reminded them all they would fix this eventually. They always did.

Eventually, their march came to an end outside another building as the sun set, casting a blue tint across the air. They stood outside the building for some time, until shouting came from other companies. She couldn't hear what they were shouting, but it sounded like orders to run somewhere.  
“Company,” First Sergeant Geary said, waiting for several agonizing counts before shouting, “fall out! Into the building!”  
In a mass, confused bunch, Bravo ran inside the building, directed further by other sergeants to sit down in an auditorium. Once they had arrived in their seats, they were ordered to study their Knowledge while they waited for something else to happen. Sergeants prowled the stage, calling upon cadets at random and grilling them for information.

“Cadet Rose!” somebody shouted out, “drop your Knowledge!”  
Ruby put her knowledge away, waiting for instruction.  
“How much and what type of ammunition does the M16A1 take?” the sergeant asked.  
“The M16A1 is fed by a box magazine containing 30 rounds of 5.56mm caliber ammunition, sergeant!”  
“Which one is it, Cadet, caliber or millimeter?”  
Ruby paused. She thought the wording was exactly that, 5.56mm caliber. Was this some kind of test?  
“I...I don't know, Sergeant!”  
“Study your Knowledge,” the sergeant said, apparently satisfied.

More time passed. The cadets as a whole were ordered to drop their Knowledge, and then told to stand as Commandant Ozpin entered the room. He headed directly past them, right onto the stage, taking the center podium and gesturing for the cadets to sit back down. He scanned the room, almost proud of what he was seeing.

“Good evening, cadets,” he said, “I will keep this brief. You have traveled here today in search of knowledge – to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose – direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step. Not all of you will become commissioned officers. This is a cold, hard fact you all must face early. Do not let this discourage you. Allow it to inspire you to strive for your ultimate goal, whatever that may be. Good luck, cadets. You will all need it.”

Having made his point, Commandant Ozpin stepped down, heading out of the room. Members of the senior cadre, including Milburn and Robert, delivered short speeches informing the cadets who they were, their roles in the command structure, and anything else they might need to know. Representatives from the Chaplain Corps, the Lighthouse Band, the Overlook Drill Team, the Mountaineers, and Rogue Platoon, Beacon's elite infantry unit, all appeared to give the cadets an overview of who they were and what they did, as well as encouraging them to sign up.

The speeches came to an end as the cadets were again filtered out of the hall. The sun had begun to set, and once again they were assembled outside in rows. Shouting came from in front of them, and another company began to run. First Sergeant Geary ordered them to run, leading them around the parade field, then through a parking lot, then to in front of Braeburn Hall.

The run was a mess of people, both that she recognized and didn't. Ruby was relatively in shape before coming here, and the run wasn't too hard for her. Heading up the hill to their barracks wore her out some, and in front of her she could see Yang working through the run like it was nothing, though all of them were exhausted when they finally reached Braeburn Hall.

First Sergeant Geary looked over them, her face not betraying any emotion. A few sergeants moved about the ranks, telling people to drink water. On instinct, Ruby made the mistake of following a sergeant with her eyes as he moved past her.  
“Don't eyeball me, Cadet,” he said, “Eyes forward.”  
“Yes, Sergeant!”  
Eventually, a few more cadets came to them, forming up behind Ruby. She heard one of them panting heavily, totally out of breath.  
“You alright, Cadet?” a sergeant asked.  
“Yes, Sergeant,” Arc replied.  
“Drink water,” the sergeant said, “It's good for you.”

Once they had all been assembled, they were ordered into the barracks, at top speed. Once again, they were formed into ranks in a room lovingly dubbed “The Pit” by the cadre. First Sergeant Geary stood with her hands behind her back as they stood in their rows, pacing back and forth slowly.  
“I'm disappointed in you, Bravo,” she said, “Six people fell out during our run. Not one of you fell out with them, helped them. My sergeants and sergeants from other companies had to help them. I want to make this clear to all of you, _you do not leave ANYONE behind!_ We are a _company_ , a _team!_ If you see someone fall out, you better fall out with them!”

Another sergeant came up, quietly reporting to First Sergeant Geary. Ruby couldn't hear everything they said, but did hear something about “transfer students” arriving, whatever that meant. They were then broken into teams and shown all sorts of things – how to fold their laundry, how to make their beds, and for the women, how to properly do their hair, something a lot of them had to fix.

Ruby was eventually pulled aside with the blonde guy, Arc, and led by a sergeant to a couple phones. They were told they could make a call to family, but only had two minutes. Ruby immediately called Dad.  
“Hello?”  
“Dad? It's me, Ruby.”  
“Hey there, baby,” he said, “how's it going? You okay?”  
“I...I think so. It's pretty tough so far.”  
“You can do this, Ruby. I know you can. You've wanted this for so long, and I know I'll see you standing there, wearing that uniform, proud as ever.”  
Ruby began to cry, smiling even through the tears. “Thanks, Dad. I needed that. Have you heard from Yang yet?”  
“I...no, not yet,” he said. “Do you know how she's doing? Are you guys in the same company?”  
Someone tapped on her shoulder. It was the sergeant, letting her know her time was up.  
“I have to go, Dad. I'll talk to you later, bye!”  
“Bye, Ruby, good luck. Remember who you are!”

As Ruby was led away from the phones, she saw Arc being asked if he would like to speak to a chaplain, crying his eyes out. He nodded, and was led away to another part of The Pit. Ruby was put next to another cadet, a tall boy with jet-black hair. A sergeant stood in front of a desk, putting things into a bag and tying it off.  
“Next,” he said, and Ruby and the other boy stepped forward. “Take your watches and jewelry off. You shouldn't have anything on your person other than ID and money for a haircut if you need it.”  
Ruby took off her mother's watch, sliding it forward. The sergeant handed her a piece of paper, telling her to write down everything she was putting into the bag.

Ruby was then told to wait outside a door, and only to enter when ordered to. After an agonizingly long wait, a sergeant opened the door and told her to come in. The room was dark, with only candles and a small red light illuminating it. First Sergeant Geary sat behind a desk, while the sergeant moved behind her to fold his arms.  
“Cadet Rose,” she said, “tell me my name and the names of two other sergeants in Bravo.”  
“You are First Sergeant Geary,” Ruby said. “And, uh...there's Sergeant...Deacon, and...Sergeant Lowe.”  
First Sergeant Geary wrote something down on a notepad in front of her, and then looked back up at her.  
“Cadet Rose, why did you join Beacon Military Academy?”  
“I want to be a soldier, First Sergeant!”  
“Could have just enlisted for that. Alright, Cadet. You're dismissed.”

Ruby headed out of the room, and from there, was told to stand in formation with others who had supposedly been through the room with First Sergeant Geary in it. After an even longer wait, First Sergeant Geary left the room and stood in front of them, congratulating them for surviving the first day at Beacon, and wishing them good night, sending them to their rooms.

This was the first chance she had to actually breathe and somewhat relax. Ruby also had her first chance to actually take stock of her dorm, noticing that there were two desks on each side of the room, and a dresser under each bed. Small strips of cork for pinning things up were above the desks, and a single window was the only source of light, if there was any light to be had at this hour.

“I suppose you're my roommate, then?” someone asked.  
Ruby turned around, seeing a girl fresh out of the shower, her bright white hair still dripping wet. Ruby smiled, holding a hand out.  
“I think so,” she said, “I'm Ruby Rose! Nice to meet you.”  
“Likewise. I suppose you already know who I am.”  
“Huh?” Ruby asked, curious. How would she know who this was?  
She tilted her head, looking at Ruby strangely, asking, “Really? Weiss Schnee, heiress to Schnee Waffenfabrik AG? My family's company only produces 70% of the US military's arsenal.”  
“Oh,” Ruby said, “I...don't think I knew that.”  
Weiss scoffed, saying, “Wow. I'm actually amazed.”

Yang soon headed around the corner, along with someone Ruby didn't recognize. Must have been Yang's roommate. Yang smiled, practically tackling Ruby to the floor after an entire day apart.  
“Hey, sis,” Yang said, “how're you doing? You get to talk to Dad?”  
“Yeah,” she said, “did you?”  
“Yeah. He sounded a little shaken up, but I think he's good.”  
“I didn't know we were allowed to bring our sisters,” Yang's roommate said, folding her arms.  
“Well, hey, what can I say,” Yang said, shrugging, “Military runs in the family.”

“Wait,” Ruby said, “we're all sharing a dorm together, right? Who are you? Where are you all from?”  
“Well,” Weiss said, “as I just explained to you, I'm Weiss Schnee. I just got here from Germany.”  
“Blake Belladonna,” Yang's roommate said, “Hawaii.”  
“Hey, Weiss,” Yang said, “I'm Yang Xiao Long, Cali born and raised.”  
“I'm Ruby Rose,” Ruby said to Blake. “I'm so excited! We're going to do great together!”

Just as soon as Ruby had finished her sentence, a banging came at the door.  
“Lights out!” a sergeant shouted, “stop talking and go to bed!”


	2. The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of Induction Week. The cadets fill out medical information, get haircuts, learn how to march, and get lessons on general soldiering.

Sleep came easily for Ruby. What didn't come easily was waking up in the morning, her door practically knocked down by incessant pounding.  
“Into The Pit!” shouted a voice from the other side.  
Ruby looked out the window, seeing only pitch black outside. Within seconds, she and Weiss were out of bed, getting their clothes on. Yang and Blake likewise were ready to go, near the door already waiting for Ruby and Weiss to get dressed.  
“This can't be right,” Blake commented, “there's no way it's 7 AM.”

Ruby didn't have the luxury of speculating on whether the clocks in their room were right or not. She needed to follow the sergeant's orders, get to The Pit. From there, who knew? What were they even doing today? Didn't they have everything they needed yesterday? Yang was out the door first, followed by Blake, then Ruby, and Weiss.

All along the hallway, sergeants were scattered about, shouting at them to run faster, get to The Pit and in formation as quickly as possible. Weiss, Ruby, Yang and Blake formed the last row, standing as still as possible to avoid a verbal beatdown from a sergeant. They seemed more interested in prowling the ranks in front of them, on the lookout for anything out of place.

“Good morning, Bravo,” First Sergeant Geary said, walking to the front of the formation.  
“Good morning, First Sergeant!” they responded. This was good enough, apparently.  
“Remember where you stand, Cadets,” she said, eying individuals as she paced back and forth. “These are your formal squads, and this is where you will stand whenever I call this company to formation. Is that understood?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”  
“Today after breakfast you will be filling out more medical information, joining a local bank if you haven't already, and for the men, getting haircuts. There will be more lectures after we've finished with those. Company, you're dismissed.”

Bravo was led outside, and from there divided into their squads and sent to the dining hall for morning chow. Food was a stiff, impersonal affair for them. They were ordered to take one scoop of whatever was available, or just one item if it couldn't be put on a spoon, and arranged at tables with prefilled glasses of some sort of blue energy drink. It was explained to them that blue was Bravo's company color, thus the drinks. Furthermore, talking was strictly forbidden. They were not allowed to do anything other than eat their food and drink, and when that was done, they were to stare at the table until the entire company was finished eating.

After breakfast, Ruby and her squad were released into the care of their squad leader. For the moment, Ruby's squad was led by a Sergeant Daichi, a towering man that was a full two heads above Ruby, if not more. He rarely spoke unless he needed to, responding even to his peers with short, simple answers or noncommittal grunts.

Ruby, Yang, Weiss and Blake were led to the campus library, and told to stand outside it and study their Knowledge until told to do something else. Behind her, Ruby heard the shouts of sergeants from other companies inside, directing cadets around and correcting them when needed. She couldn't be distracted by it now, however. She had to keep studying her Knowledge as much as she could.

“Cadet,” Sergeant Daichi said, standing in front of her, “drop your Knowledge.”  
Ruby did so, staring straight forward. She didn't want to risk the ire of accidentally looking him in the eyes.  
“What do you think you know the best off your Knowledge?”  
This was unusual. She hadn't been here long, but she could tell it was strange for a sergeant to give a cadet such free reign.  
“Sergeant, I can tell you about the M16A1!”  
“OK, go ahead then.”  
“Sergeant, the M16A1 is a selective fire, gas operated, magazine-fed 5.56mm caliber weapon first adopted by the US Armed Forces in 1961!”

Daichi nodded, telling her to study her Knowledge more. More time passed, until it was finally their turn to head into the building. More wait time ensued as they entered the library, each member of the squad waiting for someone before them to finish their turn in the gauntlet of officers and sergeants that formed the line of medical reviewers.

Eventually, Ruby's name was called, and she walked quickly down a series of desks before appearing before a pair of bored-looking sergeants, handing her a small form that was to be sent to her dentist, asking for dental records and other relevant information. From there, she moved on to the second floor of the library, where two sergeants had her stand on a white line while she waited for something unspecified.

She was eventually released, and ordered to head into a room where two senior officers and a senior NCO sat, asking her medical questions that hadn't come up during her physical exam yesterday, such as allergies, potential diseases, and anything else they could think of. A small reprieve was granted as she talked to civilian representatives from local banks, each offering a discount on opening accounts and ease-of-use benefits for young soldiers like herself with more money than they'd really know what to do with.

As she began to walk away to rejoin her squad, she heard a barely-muffled _“What?!”_ emanating from the room where the medical officers were, followed up shortly by the two line sergeants earlier doubled over in laughter. She recognized Arc in the room, standing at attention as the senior NCO stood with his hands on the table, the officers seemingly halfway between amused and annoyed at whatever situation Arc had found himself in. Arc turned to look at the sergeants, turning red as he quickly looked back at the officers.

Ruby didn't have time to see what the aftermath of this was, since she had to quickly rejoin her squad. Once each of them had gone through the gauntlet, they were again led back outside, told to study their Knowledge, and await further instructions. An offer to see the medic for minor ailments was given, something nobody in Ruby's squad took since none of them had a need to at the moment.

“Cadet,” Sergeant Daichi said, “drop your Knowledge.”  
Ruby did as ordered, waiting for further instruction.  
“Why are you smiling?”  
She blinked. Had she been smiling this entire time? Ruby wasn't aware this was considered a bad thing.  
“I don't know, Sergeant.”  
“Cadet Rose,” he said, “this is not a happy place. Do you understand that?”  
“Yes, Sergeant!”  
“Take that smile and eat it like a sandwich, understand?”  
“Yes, Sergeant!”

Since the entire squad had hair that fell within regulations, they were not forced to head to the local barbershop to have their hair fixed. Instead, they were parked on the path that the sergeants used to escort the men back and forth from their haircuts. Throughout their time there, the four of them had wave after wave of men paraded past them, first with hair, and then without. Unsurprisingly, many of them had their heads shaved entirely bald, save for a few who kept some hair for unknown purposes.

They were soon ordered to drop their Knowledge, and taken to a patch of grass near the parade ground, with a few trees nearby. Sergeant Daichi taught them basic drill, walking them through how to to properly conduct an about-face, march in proper cadence, and conduct basic drill maneuvers such as turning and halting. After no less than thirty minutes of training, Blake requested to see a medic, and so Weiss and Yang continued to practice without her and Ruby, who had been ordered to stand with Blake while the medic was brought to her.

The medic was a less than enthusiastic man, covering his eyes with a pair of sunglasses and coldly running through a checklist of Blake's ailments to find a treatment. She complained of feeling lightheaded, and the medic asked Blake how much she had to drink today. Not much, Blake admitted.  
“Alright,” the medic said, opening his medical bag and pulling out a series of colored tubes, cutting one open and handing it to Blake. “Drink one of these. You're suffering from heatstroke.”  
Blake nodded, taking sips of the tube, which Ruby assumed to be some sort of cold liquid meant to cool her down quickly. After briefly recoiling and complaining about the taste, the medic told her to drink it faster and not to waste time with it.  
“What about you, Cadet?” the medic asked, looking at Ruby as he put away his medical supplies. “You got anything you want me to check out?”  
“No, sergeant!”

Ruby and Blake were ordered to rejoin the squad, where the medic conferred with Sergeant Daichi for a moment. The medic pointed to Blake, probably telling Sergeant Daichi to make sure she, and the rest of the squad, got enough water. He nodded, saying something Ruby couldn't hear. Drill training continued, doubly so after they were joined by another squad.

After enough time, they were taken back to the dining hall for lunch. Again, they sat in silence as they ate, and then told to rush outside to formation. From there, sergeants prowled the lines again as they waited for other cadets to arrive.  
“Cadet Rose,” someone said, “stop smiling!”  
“Yes, sergeant!” Ruby said, trying as hard as she could to get her smile to go away.  
“Rose,” Sergeant Daichi shouted, “from now on, when I tell you to sound off, I want you to say 'This is not a happy place', do you understand that?”  
“Yes, sergeant!”  
“Cadet Rose, sound off!”  
“This is not a happy place, sergeant!”  
“Louder next time, Cadet,” another sergeant said.

From there, the company was taken back to their barracks. The sergeants tried to call out cadences, but due to a lack of “enthusiasm”, as one sergeant put it, they were no longer allowed to call out cadences. They wouldn't, the same sergeant said, until they learned how to march in unison. Once they returned to the barracks, they were ordered to do pushups, punishment for an unspecified crime.

After physical punishment, they were gathered up again and told to take seats wherever they could. Various sergeants lectured them on proper uniform wear, how to address officers, whether as a group or individual, what to do when an officer enters the room, room inspection procedure, and strict warnings against relationships with superiors. Another lecture warned them of the dangers of sunstroke and overheating, coupled with an ominous threat that, should they suffer from sunstroke during their time at Beacon, they would be instantly disqualified from ever earning a commission.

The lectures ended, and once again they were led to the dining hall for dinner, which consisted of meatloaf, noodles, and a selection of random green vegetables. Once again, they ate in silence, forbidden from doing anything other than reflecting on the day. Once done, they were marched back in silence to the barracks, where after more punitive exercises, they were sent to bed, with the promise of “fun” tomorrow.

Ruby practically collapsed in the chair in front of her desk as she walked into her dorm, exhausted. The day's events, and later physical exercise, had drained her of all energy. Weiss took a seat in a second chair, turning it to face Ruby.  
“So,” Weiss said, breathing heavily, “what's the fun tomorrow?”  
Ruby shrugged, saying, “I dunno. I never know what to think here.”  
“Physical competition,” Blake said, appearing around the corner with Yang, overhearing her question. “They're going to have us do exercises and compare us to other companies.”  
“And how do _you_ know that?” Weiss asked indignantly.  
“I heard Sergeant Daichi talking about it earlier, when you guys were in the library,” Blake explained. “I thought with you being a Schnee, you'd learn everything you could about this place.”

“Now hold on,” Weiss said, “it's a lot harder to get information when there's no German-language material on Beacon. I don't know if you've noticed, but Schnees don't often go to American military academies.”  
“Yeah, gotta keep the family all home so you can get back to arming third-world dictatorships,” Blake said, folding her arms.  
“Ex- _cuse_ me?!” Weiss asked, standing up to stare Blake down.  
“Woah, guys,” Yang said, stepping between the two, “this...this really isn't the time or place for this. We're a _squad_. We need to be there for each other.”  
“We're a squad for now,” Blake reminded her. “I'm putting in a transfer request the minute we finish Induction Week.”  
“Maybe you won't need to,” Weiss said, narrowing her eyes, “not if mine is approved first.”  
“Don't you think we're getting ahead of ourselves here?” Ruby asked. “I mean, we've only known each other for two days.”  
“That's enough for me,” Blake said. “I don't want to be in the same squad as the daughter of a Nazi.”  
“ _What_ did you just call my family?!”

Ruby's eyes grew wide, and she could see even Yang was surprised by Blake's sudden accusation. Blake's words and Weiss's enraged outburst hung in the air, creating an incredibly awkward environment for the two sisters. This was all confusing for Ruby. She had never heard anything ill about the Schnee company before today, much less the things Blake was accusing them of. But on the other...maybe Blake knew better than she did.

The standoff between Blake and Weiss was cut short by pounding at the door.  
“Lights out!” a sergeant shouted. “Go to sleep!”

Yang tugged at Blake's arm, urging her to return to their dorm. Weiss's angry stare practically burned holes in the very walls as she watched Blake turn the corner. Clearly, she didn't consider this conversation over.


	3. Unbreakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of Induction Week. Bravo Company participates in the Ultimate Cadet Challenge. The cadets receive their uniforms and gear today, courtesy of the US military. Ruby, Yang, Blake and Weiss learn a bit about each other.

They were woken up early, well before dawn. The once-pristine hall floors now had blue tape all over them. The sergeants shouted at them as they ran past that these were “killzones”, and they had to avoid them. The zones were inconsistent in length and distance to one another, necessitating they leap, sprint, and generally do everything possible to stay within the tape. Even then, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang were yelled at for stepping out of bounds as they made their way to formation. As usual, First Sergeant Geary was in front of the formation, watching them as they rushed in.

The usual greetings were passed, with Bravo congratulated for being particularly enthusiastic this morning.  
“This morning,” First Sergeant Geary said, “Bravo will be participating in the Ultimate Company Challenge. We will be undertaking four challenges today, and our results will be compared with Alpha, Charlie and Delta companies. Bravo, I want to emphasize we are the _best company_ in this entire corps! You will go out there this morning and make me proud! Is that understood, Bravo?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”  
“That's what I want to hear! After we have beaten the crap out of those lesser companies, you will be issued your uniforms and other essential gear. This is United States government issue! Treat it with _respect_ , Bravo! You are not being given these items as a _gift_ , you are getting them courtesy of the American people, and courtesy of every soldier who came before you to give you the _right_ to wear this uniform and serve in this corps!”

After a rousing shout, they were led outside for a short review, and then taken behind their barracks for the day's first event, a gathering of various and familiar playground equipment. First up for Bravo were four sets of wooden structures, each one a ramp set at an angle with a bar at the top. A sergeant demonstrated what they were to do – as many situps in 30 seconds. Each cadet was required to try to do at least five, and once their 30 seconds was up, they were to get off as quickly as possible to keep rotating cadets in and out.

Ruby was near the back, watching other cadets in her company bang out situp after situp without difficulty. Throughout it all, sergeants from her company maintained a constant roar of noise them from. A popular refrain was “Bravo is everything” followed by the entire company shouting “Nothing else matters!”. One sergeant, Sergeant Scarlatina, was incredibly insistent on keeping the morale up, standing next to people to make sure they were shouting as loud as possible.

Slowly, other cadets did their required situps and retreated to the back of the line, waiting for a chance to do more. Ahead of her, Yang easily knocked out the first five, proceeding to do another dozen more without struggle before slowing down to round out her total with three more. Yang gave a thumbs-up to Ruby as she headed to the back of the line. Ruby was up next. Breathing deeply, Ruby assumed the position on the equipment, waiting for the go-ahead from a sergeant.

“Go!”  
Sergeant Scarlatina was right next to her, shouting at Ruby to keep going as she did her first five, which were surprisingly easy enough.  
“That's five!” Scarlatina said. “Dig deep, Cadet Rose! You can do it!”  
Ruby did eight more, each one putting more and more strain on her abs as she went through the motions, until finally she had to stop, first from exhaustion and then from being out of time. Scarlatina beamed as Ruby got off the situp bar, telling her she had done an excellent job on the obstacle.

Once each cadet had done the obstacle once, some sergeants took it upon themselves to do some situps themselves, with Sergeants Adel and Daichi first up to bang out some situps, competing with each other to do more. To Ruby's surprise, Sergeant Adel handily beat Daichi, raising her arms triumphantly in the air to enthusiastic cheers from her squad.

A call came down for them to change stations, and Bravo was led to a pair of monkey bars. Here, they were told to go through the obstacle as many times as they could, as fast as possible. Ruby was up first, leaping up to the bars and making her way to the opposite end, which looked farther and farther away with each swing of her arms. Encouragement came from not just the sergeants, but her squadmates and others in the company, people that Ruby didn't even know.

Eventually, she made it to the other side, and rejoined the end of the line. Up next was Arc, looking terrified of the obstacle. He too latched onto the bars, practically throwing himself across each one. Even with her relative inexperience, Ruby could tell he was struggling. Halfway through Arc fell off, landing harshly, to the concern of a nearby sergeant. He got up not long after, brushing dirt off of his knees.

Immediately, Sergeant Scarlatina headed over to him as he was lining up behind Ruby. Ruby stiffened up as she approached on instinct.  
“Cadet Arc,” Scarlatina said, “come with me, I want you to do something.”  
“Yes, Sergeant!” Arc said, following Scarlatina.  
She took him further away from Ruby, to stand right where the line bent to send them to the monkey bars.  
“Cadet Arc,” Scarlatina said, “I want you to stand here and shout 'Bravo is everything' as loud as you can until I tell you to stop, do you understand that?”  
“Yes, Sergeant!” Arc said, louder than probably necessary.  
“Do it, then,” she said, walking away to give encouragement to those on the bars.

Arc shouted at the top of his lungs, repeating the line each time the company answered it, seemingly saying it louder each time. Ruby wasn't sure how he was able to make himself sound so loud, but the effect it had on her was unmistakeable. She was determined now to go through the bars as much as possible, aiming to beat her time with each pass.

Mere minutes passed before they were again moved to another station, this time a simple pull-up bar. They were to do at least one, though it was impressed upon them that they should do many, many more. Scarlatina ordered Arc to keep shouting, and when he stopped for whatever reason, somebody else quickly picked up the slack, usually Yang.

Ruby's turn at the pullup bar came, and she managed to do four before her arms gave out entirely. Like on the situp bar, sergeants did some when each cadet had their turn, where even Arc had managed to do one. They did three passes on this, with each pass showing that the cadets were steadily losing steam.

A whistle blew, and each company was ordered to cease all exercise and form up. An officer stood on a raised platform, waiting for them to assemble in their formations. Once they had done so, he congratulated the present companies on breaking the single-day record for most repetitions across all stations, an academy record.

Reading from a clipboard, he began to list off the number of reps each company did.  
“Bravo,” he began, “364 total repetitions.”  
Instantly, they cheered as Sergeant Adel congratulated them on doing so well.  
“Charlie,” the officer continued, “488 repetitions.”  
Ruby's mouth was agape, and a quick look around confirmed that, for most of her fellow cadets, the shock was mutual. How had Charlie company beaten them?  
“Delta,” he said, “491 reps. Alpha, 621.”  
Ruby's shock turned to total emotional devastation. Alpha was their main rival, so the sergeants said. Alpha had blown them out of the water entirely. The officer congratulated all of them for doing their hardest work, and dismissed them to head to other events.

Bravo was told to hold their position for a while, where Sergeant Adel stood in front of them, waiting for other companies to depart before addressing them.  
“Alright, Bravo,” she said, “so we didn't do too hot. That's fine. There's plenty of other events for us to succeed at. Any of you want to tell us if you learned anything about yourselves?”  
Ruby watched her scan the company, before locking eyes with someone and pointing to them, calling upon them to speak.  
“Sergeant,” Arc shouted, “I learned I can do anything I set my mind to!”  
“You can do anything you set your mind to,” she repeated, “that's the attitude I want to see from all of you today, Bravo. You're going to face some tough challenges today. Don't let something as small as doubt get in the way.”

The company was led away from their current station, and headed to the parade field where a large tire and a stretcher were laid out parallel to each other, the stretcher bearing two jerry cans. Here, they would take the stretcher, which represented a fallen comrade, across the parade field, around a cone set out some distance away from them, and take it back to the starting line. As per usual, this was to be done as quickly as possible.

Ruby was one of the first four to carry the stretcher, alongside Nikos, Arc, and Weiss. She was on the back left side, waiting for the signal to step off. Once it was given, she lifted the stretcher in unison with Weiss, Arc and Nikos, running as fast as her legs could take her.  
“Pivot!” Weiss shouted as they neared the cone. “Pivot! Come on!”  
As they rounded the cone, reoriented back towards the goal, Nikos reminded them to keep the stretcher steady. They were dangerously close to it tipping over, threatening to drop the heavy water-filled cans onto their feet.

They set the stretcher down on the grass, another four quickly taking their spots as they headed to the rear of the line, waiting for another turn on the obstacle. Throughout it all, sergeants repeatedly shouted at them to keep going, reminding them they had to be as fast as possible if they wanted to beat Alpha. Around her, Ruby could hear others shouting encouragement to their friends that were running the course. Ruby joined in it, seeing Yang carrying the stretcher and leading three others.

“Hey, Bravo,” another sergeant shouted, “look over there! It's Alpha! Cadet Arc! Make sure they hear how motivated we are!”  
“Yes sergeant!” Arc said, shouted more accurately, returning to his usual role of calling out the familiar refrain that kept the motivation alive.  
When the sergeants got tired of seeing the company run a stretcher back and forth, they demanded that two cadets, usually picked at random, pick up a jerry can and lug it across the parade field and then back again, as fast as possible and without ever dropping the can during their trip. Arc was one of the first picked, alongside another cadet named Valkyrie. Valkyrie had no issue carrying the can, but Arc visibly struggled, nearly collapsing every three feet.

This exercise was soon deemed over, and they turned their attention to the tire. Divided once again into random groups of four, they were to roll the tire end-over-end a set distance, and then roll it back the other way. Arc had been excluded from this, instead on the sidelines to shout encouragement by Sergeant Scarlatina's orders. The morning sun was now visible, making the grass shiny as dew reflected the sun's rays. Already, Ruby was sweating like no tomorrow, even though the morning wasn't any hotter than usual.

Eventually, this too had to end, despite Ruby's valiant efforts at moving the tire as quickly as possible without crushing her temporary allies. Once again they were formed up, told to drink water, and marched to a nearby parking lot situated behind the campus gym, where a truck had been parked in an otherwise empty lot. Their mission was to push the truck in a loop around the parking lot. Once they had done this, and done it in a satisfactory manner, they would be able to have breakfast.

It seemed like a cruel thing, to lock breakfast behind moving a vehicle around a parking lot, but Ruby guessed they must have been doing it for a reason. The sergeants rarely just did things on a whim, much less to do something like intentionally starve cadets. She initially thought the entire mission would be impossible. How could they move a parked car? Then it was revealed to her that the engine was off, and the parking brake disengaged.

She found herself next to Yang and Weiss at the rear of the truck, pushing with all their strength to help move the car. Behind them, those who weren't pushing were jogging to keep up, ready to take over if one of them fell out.  
“Keep it up!” Yang shouted. “We're halfway there!”  
Around them, sergeants continually shouted at them to push harder, to never give up. After what seemed like an eternity, they had successfully pushed the truck around the parking lot, though Ruby had to drop out and back in several times to recover her strength.

Breakfast was rife with the usual fare. Fried, diced potatoes provided the day's starch, with a selection of eggs and meats for protein. Biscuits as hard as hockey pucks were the feature for bread, and copious amounts of butter laid out for anyone who wanted it. For the first time, they were allowed to talk during breakfast, in order to learn more about their fellow squad members.

“Well,” Weiss said as she poked at some eggs on her plate, “this is a far cry from breakfast at home.”  
“I'm just happy they offered vegetarian options,” Blake commented, switching between shoving spoonfuls of food down her mouth and contributing to the conversation.  
“So, Blake,” Yang asked, “where in Hawaii are you from? Honolulu?”  
“No,” she said, “Kahului. It's on Maui.”  
“Huh,” Yang said. “Never been.”  
“It's a nice island,” Blake said, clearly wishing she were back there.  
“What about you, Weiss,” Ruby asked, turning to her, “where in Germany are you from?”  
“Wilhelmshaven,” Weiss answered curtly, “but most of my family is from Saxony.”  
“Where's that?” Yang asked.  
“East Germany. The wall makes it a little hard to visit.”

Breakfast was soon ended, on this rather somber note. Bravo was told they would now be heading to the supply depot to pick up their uniforms, and marched across campus once again to a building on the clear opposite end of the campus, far from their barracks and any building they had been to before. They were informed that should they ever need replacement uniforms, new equipment, or had to return something for any reason, they were to head here.

Once inside, each of them were given a large duffel bag and told to take a spot in the room. Sergeants wandered around, randomly tossing them clothes. Most of them had their sizes taken before they had arrived, and it was just a matter of the sergeant throwing the right size at them. For others who arrived later, like Weiss, they needed to have their measurements taken and written down, and then retrieved by a supply sergeant.

“Hold on,” Sergeant Adel said as Sergeant Scarlatina headed towards Weiss with a tape measure in hand, “you don't get any of this stuff, Cadet Schnee.”  
“What?” Weiss asked, confused.  
Sergeant Adel headed off for a moment, refusing to explain herself, and then came back with another bag, similar to the one Weiss already had. She tossed it in front of Weiss, the bag landing squarely at her feet.  
“Courtesy of West Germany. Congratulations, Schnee.”  
Curious, Weiss opened the bag, pulling out a uniform in a plain dark green, a small German flag stitched onto the sleeves, a stark contrast to the multicolored woodland camouflage the rest of them were being issued. Weiss was barely able to contain her lack of enthusiasm for having to wear her home country's uniform. Regardless of which uniform she wore, Weiss and Ruby both got the same gear. Two canteens, laundry bag, belts for their garrison uniforms, and boot cleaning kits were all issued to them, and it was impressed that the bag containing their clothes and gear was also their responsibility to maintain.

Other items added to their growing collection were various bits of formal wear, a sidecap for their garrison uniform, a patrol cap for their camouflage outfit, and a formal hat that went along with what the sergeants called “dress blues”.

As they were again formed up to be moved elsewhere with their various uniforms and gear, Ruby suddenly realized she had lost her Knowledge. The issue stuck in her mind as they headed to lunch, where she informed Sergeant Daichi of it as soon as possible. He was less than enthused, to be expected. For lunch, they were able to select from various pasta dishes and fresh fruit, with each cadet encouraged to get as much food as possible to keep their strength up.

After they had finished, Bravo was once again formed up outside. Sergeant Daichi took Ruby to the side, bringing her to Sergeant Adel, who was busy eating her own lunch.  
“Sergeant Adel,” Daichi said, “I brought you Cadet Rose as you requested.”  
Sergeant Adel looked up at them, before picking up Ruby's Knowledge sheet, holding it before them.  
“Is this yours, Cadet?” she asked in between bites of pasta.  
“Yes, Sergeant,” Ruby said, gratefully reaching out for it, before it was pulled away from her hand.  
“You'll need to _earn_ it back, Rose. Stop smiling and get back to your squad.”

The rest of the day was taken up by lectures on uniform wear and care, as well as an impromptu session on how to identify officers and sergeants, as well as how to address senior NCOs, a lesson some in Bravo apparently hadn't learned. Another lecture was given detailing how to prepare their rooms for inspection, with a warning that at the end of the week, they would be subjected to an intense review, and there was an unspecified punishment should any room fail inspection.

In between lectures, Ruby was whisked away by Sergeant Adel to an unoccupied part of the barracks. Sergeant Alistair stood by, probably to ensure Sergeant Adel wasn't abusing Ruby when nobody was watching.  
“Cadet Rose,” Sergeant Adel said, “I hope you've learned by now to keep better track of your things. Do you know how you lost your Knowledge?”  
“No, sergeant.”  
“Alright. Definitely make sure you don't do something like this again. Losing a piece of paper is one thing, but I don't want to hear of you losing something more important. Understand?”  
“Yes, sergeant.”  
Sergeant Adel had Ruby lie down next to her on the floor, and together they did a series of leg raises, with Sergeant Adel forcing Ruby to hold her legs up in the air for several seconds. Each time Ruby did so, she was to say out loud, “I will not lose my Knowledge” until Sergeant Adel was satisfied.

By the time Ruby had been released from her punishment by Sergeant Adel, the company had been sent to dinner. Tonight's course consisted of chicken pot pie, steamed vegetables, and the usual accompaniment of fresh fruits. Talking was now forbidden once more, for reasons that the sergeants said would be explained once they had returned to the barracks.

Once formed up in the barracks once more, First Sergeant Geary stood in front of them, obviously angry beyond belief.  
“I'm disappointed in you, Bravo,” she said, “I got word today that some of you have been abusing the services of our beloved medics.”  
As she said this, she cast her eye disapprovingly on several cadets, of which Ruby wasn't one of them. She wondered who had done this.  
“Know that because of the actions of this company, and other companies, you will be punished. Sergeant Alvarez, please explain to this company why they are being informed of this.”

Sergeant Alvarez scanned the formation, and Ruby realized this was the same medic that had attended to Blake earlier in the day. He no longer had his sunglasses on, revealing blue eyes that were filled to the brim with pure rage.  
“Like First Sergeant Geary said, _some of you_ have abused the care we give you to get out of conducting exercises. We have seven medics overseeing nine companies, and we cannot be everywhere at once. We had a cadet almost _die_ today because we were busy dealing with people who were faking.”

Barely-subdued gasps could be heard among the company. Ruby was one of these voices, shocked that this sort of reality was hitting her. Had someone in Bravo really been this close to being responsible for another cadet's death? The sergeants seemed to think knowing this was punishment enough, since they hadn't told them to be quiet.

“We _know_ when you're faking,” Sergeant Alvarez said. “We're not stupid. Don't you dare treat us like we are.”  
Having made his point, Sergeant Alvarez stepped back. For disrespecting their medics, First Sergeant Geary told them, the entire company would be doing pushups. They spread out, assumed the position, and to the repetitive counts of “1-2-3” they performed pushups, shouting out how many they had done after every third count. Ruby could have sworn that, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arc stand up and speak to a sergeant. Through the counts and her own shouting, she couldn't hear what he said, if anything.

After forty pushups each, First Sergeant Geary decided they had appropriately apologized to Sergeant Alvarez, and released Bravo to go to bed. Before being sent off for the night, Bravo had been informed that they were to appear in the pit wearing their jeans.

Back in their room, Weiss and Ruby set about preparing things for tomorrow. Dad had told her about the day they would order this. He had told her and Yang about when _he_ was a Cadet here, they had taken them to a nearby forest for a day of “extreme field exercises”. He never expanded further on it, but he had shown them black-and-white pictures of the day in his yearbook. He, Uncle Qrow, and Mom were all caked in mud, from doing what Ruby wasn't really sure.

Suddenly, Weiss was next to her, staring her down. Ruby jumped at seeing Weiss appear by her side, having not even heard her move across the room.  
“I'm telling Sergeant Daichi tomorrow,” Weiss said, keeping her voice low.  
“Huh?” Ruby asked. “Telling him what?”  
“That Belladonna was faking today. When we were practicing drill.”  
Ruby panicked. She had been next to Blake that entire time, and she did _not_ look like she was faking to Ruby. Blake had genuine fear in her eyes when the medic told her she was suffering from heatstroke. Would she have been able to generate that response if she were faking?  
“I...I don't know if that's a good idea,” Ruby shakily said. “I mean, she looked pretty scared when the medic was looking over her.”  
Weiss narrowed her eyes, folding her arms and giving Ruby a cold stare. “Another cadet almost _died_ today. Belladonna's a _feigling_ , I'm not about to let her shame this company.”  
“She's a what?” Ruby asked.

Before Weiss could answer, the same banging came at the door, with the same order to turn off their lights and go to sleep.


	4. The Emerald Forest, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cadets head to the Emerald Forest for team-building exercises on day 4 of Induction Week. Ruby and Jaune make mistakes. The squads come together to become cohesive units.

The morning routine was unchanged. Pounding at the door. A formation in The Pit. A second formation outside. Today, however, they weren't led to chow hall. They were taken to buses and loaded onto them, with only the promise of “fun” ahead of them at Emerald Forest. Due to an odd number of cadets and seats on the bus, Ruby was forced to sit alone, separated from Yang, Weiss and Blake behind her. To add to her isolation, Sergeant Adel had tasked Ruby with keeping an ice cooler of something from falling onto the floor as the bus took them to the Emerald Forest.

Casual conversation was allowed between those who sat next to one another, which Ruby was unable to take part in primarily because she couldn't _hear_ what Weiss and Blake were saying behind her. Though, truthfully, she wasn't sure they really _were_ saying anything. She heard Yang's voice, but wasn't about to make out specific words. It sounded like she was talking to both Weiss and Blake at the same time, carrying on two different conversations at once.

Dawn broke as they reached the entrance of the Emerald Forest. Row by row, they were taken off the bus and formed up in a field. Ruby noted that out in the field, there were officers she had never seen before. A sergeant said they were actual commissioned officers, observers sent out by the local military base to see how the class of 1988 was faring.

First Sergeant Geary gave them a short briefing of what they were to expect of the day. First, they were to watch a short demonstration from Rogue Platoon, then they were to engage in several team-building exercises. What these exercises were was left unsaid, leaving each cadet to speculate wildly within the confines of their own minds.

As promised, they were marched off to a clearing near the river. An officer informed them that, across the way, elements of Rogue Platoon were preparing to engage a Communist force twice its size. The officer narrated that Rogue Platoon was employing the latest US Army small unit tactics, working to outmaneuver the Communists before they even knew Rogue Platoon was there. Shots rang out. Ruby tried to look for forms in the treeline, but saw nothing. The officer claimed that Rogue Platoon was handily defeating the Communists, who were in full retreat after a brief, overwhelming engagement. Rogue Platoon never even had to call in fire support.

After the demonstration, they were ordered to clap, and then rejoin their companies as fast as possible. Ruby tracked Yang's hair through the crowd of people to avoid becoming lost and following the wrong company. Once again, they formed up, about ready to head to their first exercise. However, First Sergeant Geary frowned, scanning the company.

“Hold on,” she said, “we're missing someone. Cadets, sound off!”  
One by one, each cadet shouted their name, passing through each rank slowly. Only one voice failed to sound off.  
“Where's Cadet Arc?” First Sergeant Geary asked. “Adel, Daichi, did either of you see him?”  
“He was with us at the demonstration, First Sergeant!” Adel said.  
First Sergeant Geary sighed, shaking her head. She called her sergeants over to her, and they quietly conferred for some time. After few minutes, she turned her attention back to Bravo.

“Bravo,” she announced, “in case you haven't noticed, Cadet Arc is missing. Who was his battle buddy? Step forward.”  
A boy with jet-black hair stepped out of rank, moving out and to the right.  
“Cadet Ren,” First Sergeant Geary said, “you've failed your battle buddy. You've failed Bravo. _All_ of you have failed. Because you could not help us keep track of Cadet Arc and make sure he got here with us, we have to make sure he's alright. We have to make sure he's not injured, or lost out in these woods.”  
Several sergeants shook their heads, clearly disappointed. First Sergeant Geary gave them one final disapproving look, before turning to her right.  
“Company,” she called, “march!”  
They began to march, but only for a few moments before the First Sergeant called out double-time, forcing them to run to their destination.

They headed to an odd series of short poles sticking out of the ground, with ramps and entirely too small platforms set apart from each other. The poles and ramps were uniform, parallel to each other and totally identical. Their mission here was to find a way to build a bridge using the provided planks, and get all members of their team across. If anyone fell off, all of them would have to go back to the beginning. If their bridge collapsed, they would have to do it over again.

Randomly, First Sergeant Geary divided them up into teams. Ruby was reunited with Blake, joined by a boy she didn't know, another who introduced himself as Ren, and a girl named Nora. Two others from First Squad also were on their team, but Ruby never caught their names. Just as they were about to begin their mission, Ruby saw Arc heading towards them, following an older man, clearly a civilian.

Immediately, First Sergeant Geary descended upon him, demanding to know where he was.  
“I got lost, First Sergeant!” Arc said.  
“Cadet Arc,” First Sergeant Geary shouted, “from now on, your soundoff is 'Because I'm homeschooled', do you understand that?!”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”  
“Sound off, Cadet Arc! Why did you get lost?”  
**“Because I'm homeschooled, First Sergeant!”**  
“Go join them,” First Sergeant Geary said, pointing to Ruby's team.

Now one more strong, the team began to discuss how best to tackle the issue before them. The boards were of an inconsistent length, and there were too few of them to span the gap completely, much less going from post-to-post. Ren quickly took charge of the situation, having them stack the longer planks first to bridge the gap from the ramp to a post out in the middle, using posts along the way for support. From there, smaller planks allowed them to leapfrog from one post to the next.

It was a good plan, up until it stopped working. The planks they had were now far too short to cover much of anything, much less the distance from the last ramp to the one remaining post they had. The boys Ruby didn't know began to argue amongst themselves, saying they each had better ideas than Ren. With few options left, they rearranged the planks as much as they could, with each change making the situation worse. Not one of them had made the journey across the bridge, since there was no bridge to cross.

After several close enough options, Bravo as a whole was ordered to stop. Ruby saw that the other team had been able to finish their task. Sergeant Adel strolled over to them, looking over their work with a critical eye.  
“Do you know what you did wrong?” she asked.  
“No, sergeant!”  
“You had a plan, but you weren't able to stick to it. Cadet Ren had a good idea at first, and it would have worked. However, when you saw the goal wasn't in sight, you panicked. Panic made you change it up, and do it wrong. All you needed to do was make a small change, and trust Cadet Ren's thinking.”

She reminded them not to stress over the small details, and released them back into formation. From there, they were taken to what looked like the beginnings of a real bridge, a structure with classic under-truss style that was only missing the path itself on top. Yellow and white spots were painted all over it, each one denoting a place that was either safe, yellow, or “death”, white. They had to move themselves, a heavy box, and a single plank across the bridge, avoiding the white areas. If anyone stepped on a white area, they had to go back to the beginning.

Further complicating this was that their plank could never at any point touch a white area. If this happened, they would immediately fail the exercise. There were no teams assigned this time. This was a full-company mission. Yang and the red-haired girl immediately scaled the bridge, offering a hand to anyone who wanted to join them on the structure. Ruby handed them the plank as they tried to figure out a way across the various beams and trusses.

Avoiding the death areas was difficult. They had to maneuver the plank in ways nobody thought quite possible, or even safe. The sergeants remained uncharacteristically silent during this, only offering encouragement that they could do it. Arc and Ren were tasked with handing off the box to one another as they traversed the bridge, assisted by the red-haired girl and Yang moving the plank to help them get along.

Soon enough, it became abundantly clear even this strategy wouldn't work. They had run out of yellow space along the bridge to work with, and no way to both maneuver the box, the plank, and themselves without resorting to some creative measures. Arc suggested just tossing the plank, but this was shot down when even he realized how that could go wrong. They had to do _something_.

Eventually, their time here was up, too. Sergeant Daichi gave them a quick debrief, telling them that even though they failed to accomplish the mission, their perseverance was to be commended. Once again, they were led to another station, an obstacle course that Ruby had heard many a story from Dad and Uncle Qrow of.

This was the so-called Ranger Course, the sergeants explained. They were to run underneath a culvert built into a small hill just for the course, then low-crawl through a cut, over a short wall, sprint to a foxhole to throw a grenade, hurdle over two more walls, circle around a large tree, crawl through a mud pit, climb up and then back down a rope, and then dive behind another wall to throw another grenade, followed up by a sprint up and over the hill.

Bravo was lined up in reverse alphabetical order, and each cadet was given an old field blouse for them to wear so they wouldn't get their shirts dirty. Each blouse was already stained by mud from previous cadets, probably from another company who went through this course before them. As each one ahead of her, they shouted their name as they started the course.

One by one, the line went away, until eventually Ruby's turn came. A sergeant ordered her to go, and she shouted out “Cadet Rose!” as she ran through the culvert, coming out on the other side. Crawling through the dust and dirt wasn't too large an issue, but the wall was. She barely got herself over it, rushing to the first grenade station.

Ruby took an orange-painted grenade into her hand from a small pile next to the wall, peeking up to check where she was throwing.  
“Frag out!” she yelled, hurling the small grenade over her head and hopefully into the general area she was supposed to throw it.  
“You're short,” a sergeant shouted out.  
No time to go back and do it again. She had to keep moving forward. She leaped over the walls, still struggling just as badly as she had with the first one. The mud pit was next, and she literally dove into it, covering her in mud. Sergeants lining the ends of the pit screamed at her to get lower, get dirtier. She had to obey their orders.

Coming out of the mud pit, Ruby had only the rope as her next physical challenge. The rope itself was slick from the mud of other cadets before her, making it hard to grip. Despite this, Ruby lifted herself up onto the rope, taking her up a good fifteen feet into the air before she climbed back down. Once done, she sprinted to the next grenade station, again throwing a grenade and calling “frag out” as she did so. Once again, she was short. Her run on the obstacle course ended with her rushing over the hill, to the cheers of Yang, Weiss and Blake.

“Great job, sis,” Yang said, hugging her.  
“Thanks, Yang!” Ruby said, returning the hug.  
As they waited for others to finish the run, Yang, Ruby, and Weiss, along with others, were told to hang alongside the course. Their job was to give encouragement to their fellow cadets, and if any of them were struggling, to help them out the best they could short of actually running the course for them. As the last cadet, Arc, ran through it, Ruby could tell he was struggling even more than she was.

His first issue came with the walls, much like her. He could barely get over them, and had to be pushed by Yang and Blake. His grenade throws weren't much better than Ruby's. Not even the rope climb was possible for him, and he was made to do twenty-five pushups to compensate for his inability to climb the rope. As he ran over the hill and declared to have finished the course, he slowed, before holding out his hand, searching for something.

“I can't see,” he said, panicked, “I can't see!”  
The red-haired girl, who Ruby now knew as Pyrrha Nikos, grabbed her canteen and moved next to Arc.  
“Hold still,” she said, taking the cap off her canteen and pouring water over his face. “Open your eyes, Jaune. Can you see now?”  
“Yeah,” Arc said, blinking heavily. “Thanks, Pyrrha.”

Their reprieve was to end, however. They were now to run to the nearby river, to wash off the mud that had accumulated on their jeans and borrowed uniforms. Once at the river, which was more a glorified stream to Ruby, they were ordered into it to wash off their uniforms and give them a little time to goof off and relieve some stress. This too ended after a few minutes, where they did pushups in the river for a short while.

Once again they were marched to a new station. This one was a bizarre series of tubes and poles, where their task was, as a team, to get each member of their team through the pipe and across a gap, wherein like in many other places they were to use a long thin board to allow them to walk between poles. These poles, however, were at least seven feet in the air, and they were not to touch the ground at any point if they were on the obstacle.

Arc was assigned as a leader for Ruby's team, where she was joined by Blake, Nora Valkyrie, Pyrrha, and Weiss. After taking some time to look over the situation, he had himself and Weiss head first into the pipe, carrying the board with them. Once through, he situated himself on top of the pipe, directing people in place as they emerged through said pipe. A problem soon emerged. There was no way for Weiss to move forward without the board, but Arc was unable to get down to help her without falling off the obstacle.

“This is pointless!” Weiss said, frustrated as she tried to maneuver herself and the board out. “We're not getting anything done, Arc!”  
“Well, wait, hold on,” he said, “uh, maybe try pushing the board forward?”  
“Do you think I'm not trying that already?!”  
“Guys, wait,” Blake said, looking at the scene from another angle. “Maybe if Arc can get down-”  
“He can't,” Weiss responded from inside the pipe, “we're stuck here.”  
“Can we move the board around?” Valkyrie asked.  
“Gotta go through the pipe,” Sergeant Daichi said, standing off to the side.  
“Okay, I got it,” Weiss said, “one of you join me in here. Arc, be ready to grab the board _if_ it comes out.”  
“If it wasn't moving when it was just you, how would-”  
“Just _do it_ , alright? We can't waste any more time!”

Ruby joined Weiss inside the pipe, where she told Ruby to keep the plank steady for her as she moved around it. Together, they pushed some more, but had to stop when it became clear that it wasn't moving anywhere so long as Weiss was between it and the other side. There was no way around it – somewhere, they had messed up.

“I told you,” Arc said from atop the pipe, “it won't work. I can't move back in to help.”  
“OK,” Blake said, “maybe if we take the board out, and get someone on the first pole-”  
Arc shook his head, interrupting, “How are we going to get to the first pole without the plank? Can any of you jump that?”  
“Anything's better than wrestling with the board in the pipe!” Weiss shouted.

Their lack of progress was noted, drawing the attention of First Sergeant Geary. She headed to them, rounding the team up for a little “discussion”, as she called it.  
“This is ridiculous, Bravo,” she said. “Look at the other team. They're working together, and they've spent half as much time talking as all of you have. I've been watching you, and you've all been sitting here arguing with each other, talking over one another-”  
Almost as if on cue, Arc began to interrupt, saying to anyone nearby, “I think I got it, if we-”  
“ _This is what I mean!”_ the First Sergeant shouted. “You are talking over me _right now!_ Your own _first sergeant!_ Who do you think you are, Cadet?! You all had better shape up, because if this is how you're going to treat the rest of today's events, then this company is done for!”

They were ordered off the obstacle after their debacle, and marched to a small clearing where boxes had been set up. Bravo was lined up, and given a small packet. Ruby looked at hers as she was ordered to go find somewhere to sit – Meal, Ready to Eat, Menu #2, Ham and Chicken Loaf. Behind her, she heard Blake ask if there were any vegetarian options. Unfortunately, there were not. Blake would have to either only eat part of the meal, or find a way to pick out the meat.

Together with her squad, Ruby sat down and opened up the pack, noting Blake's clear apprehension about having a non-vegetarian meal. Each bit of the meal was in a box, with a pack that claimed to have coffee, creamer, sugar, salt, matches, chewing gum, and toilet paper inside. Further included was a pack of freeze-dried pears, a packet of peanut butter, crackers, the aforementioned ham and chicken loaf, and a pineapple nut cake.

“Wow,” Yang said, opening up her pack. “I didn't think hot dogs could look so unappealing.”  
Before her, Yang had four short, almost square hot dogs, each one shining unnaturally.  
“That's easily the most disgusting thing I've ever seen,” Blake commented.  
Ruby opened her entree up, revealing a square blob of indistinct meat, which glistened as the juices it was marinating in slid out.  
“OK,” Blake said, gagging audibly. “I take that back. _That's_ the most disgusting thing I've ever seen.”  
“Are we just supposed to eat it cold?” Ruby wondered aloud.  
“I don't think we really have time to do anything to it,” Yang said, already scooping out beans from another pack, having discarded the hot dogs entirely.

Ruby shrugged, going ahead and taking small bites of the meat. Each bite was as unnatural to her as the meat's appearance itself, oddly soft and tasting like nothing with a tiny hint of bacon attached to it. The coldness of the meat didn't help its taste any. Next to her, Ruby could hear Blake still gagging, trying to avoid touching the meat in her packet as much as she could. The fact that it was entirely separate from anything else in the packet didn't seem to cross her mind.

“At least it has coffee,” Weiss said, sighing as she munched on a cracker.


	5. The Emerald Forest, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day at the Emerald Forest draws to a close, as Bravo Company is forced to work in silence on an obstacle. The return to Beacon is marked with a heavily heated argument in the dorm.

Lunch ended far too early, with Ruby not able to finish most of the food that came in the so-called MRE. A sergeant walked around with a trash bag, ordering them to empty their garbage into it, and once they had, the company was again called to formation and marched to another station. Instead of an exercise, here they were treated to a survival lecture from their cadre. Each cadet was highly encouraged to remember these lessons well – they may need them later.

After the lecture, they were taken back to team-building exercises. A wall stood in front of them, at least twenty feet high. Supposedly, a wizard had placed this in front of them on their way to chow hall, and they couldn't simply walk around it. They had to go up and over. To add to their stress, they had another restriction placed upon them – Bravo was forbidden to talk.

Silently, they gathered and tried to think of something. Suddenly, Nikos grabbed her belt and undid it, one of the larger canvas ones they had been given for the day's training so they wouldn't dirty up one of their better belts. She had Valkyrie next to her take her belt off as well, and slowly Arc and Ren got the idea as well. With these four belts in hand, Nikos made steps with them.

It seemed easy enough. They'd build a rope ladder with their belts, lift two of the strongest cadets up the wall, and then they could just climb a ladder to get up and over. This in motion, they immediately began to take off their belts, looping and hooking them together to build two lines of a makeshift ladder.

A few minutes later, they had enough of a ladder to feel confident enough to try and scale the wall. Valkyrie and another cadet who Ruby didn't know were hoisted up to the top of the wall, and then tossed each line. At the top, they held it steady enough for the first brave ones to attempt to climb. Ren volunteered, and tested the strength of the ladder with his foot. Seemingly satisfied, he began to climb up it.

Ren was halfway up the wall, providing hope for them. Right up until it failed. One of the belts came undone, and collapsed as Ren stepped on it. He fell, but didn't land on the hard ground. Yang, Blake and Ruby caught him before he hit the dirt, saving him from potential disaster. Alright, this plan didn't work. New plan. Simple brute strength would have to do.

They had to revert to the same method they used to get Valkyrie and the other cadet up. Ruby volunteered to be part of the lifting club, alongside Yang, Ren and a few others. Once they had gotten three more cadets up, Bravo was allowed to speak, freeing them up to better coordinate their movements.

“Alright, Arc,” Ren said, ready to boost him up, “your turn.”  
Arc exhaled deeply, steeling himself for the exercise. He got a head start, and stepped up to be lifted, reaching for the top of the wall. Something was wrong, Ruby thought as she lifted Arc up. Why wasn't he over the top of the wall yet?  
“You gotta pull yourself up, dude!” Yang shouted, straining under Arc's weight.  
“Come on, Cadet,” a sergeant on the wall said. “Don't leave them like this!”  
Eventually, Arc was pulled over the top entirely by Valkyrie. With him out of the way, the others could be pulled up until only Blake remained, refusing to go until all others had gotten over the wall first. With her the only one left, she leaped up to the top of the wall, caught by Yang and Ruby. Valkyrie and the other cadet had retired long ago, their arms worn out from pulling up others the entire time.

Their final team-building exercise of the day involved yet another wall, but unlike others this one wasn't conveniently in front of them. Playground material covered a gap between them and the wall, and beyond it was a rope bridge. Another box awaited them, where they were told they were to take ammo to friendly forces, and had to get as many people over as possible in 30 minutes. There was no way they were going to get over this gap alone, so thankfully they had a plank and a rope to aid them.

Weiss took charge, proposing they move the box over first before trying to move people. Helpfully, the sergeants told them that if the box was dropped, it “exploded” and had to be sent back. The plank was tossed into the pit, allowing them to near the wall to let people up. They had considerably less room to maneuver on this one, and thus Yang was asked to help people get up and over the wall, a task she took in stride. Once they had moved a few others up and above the wall, their next task was to find a way to get the box over.

Ruby scanned the rope bridge in front of her. It was shaky, to be expected, and not at all stable for actual walking. There was only one way she saw.  
“I have an idea,” Ruby said, “we can move the box from one person to another to the end, it's the only way I can see us getting through.”  
“I dunno, Ruby,” Yang said. “We'd have to toss it to each other.”  
“Can't get anywhere without taking risks,” another cadet said.  
Yang shrugged, and relayed the plan to the others still behind the wall. Three more were moved over, and from there they set up in positions to toss the box to one another, hopefully to get it to the other side. Once there, the box was moved over, very carefully to avoid having to restart their progress.

Situated in the middle, Ruby had a good view of what was to happen. The first few throws were spectacular failures, falling too short or too high, leading to the box “exploding” each time. They had a few more cadets join them in an attempt to shorten the chain, but now there was an issue of too many people, not enough spots. More tosses and handoffs, each with varying success as the box was dropped another seven times. Ruby had been able to handle the box only four times now, and dropped it once when someone shoved it into her hands before she was ready.

Eventually, they fell into a rhythm, and the box was finally passed over to a waiting sergeant, who told them they now had to move the rest of the company over. Slowly and just as carefully, they moved themselves off the platforms and poles they had been residing on to the “safe” zone. By the time their thirty minutes was up, they had only moved ten out of the forty people in Bravo. Not perfect, but they accomplished the mission, and that was what mattered.

For one final formation after their exercises, First Sergeant Geary told them she had a “special” company soundoff for them. They stood near the buses, facing Alpha by the First Sergeant's orders, and after she slowly and carefully explained it to them, they got orders to be as loud as possible. She further said that they were sounding off like this because they had pulled together as a company to be one of the best-motivated she had seen in a long while.

Facing Alpha now, they waited for the order.  
“Bravo,” First Sergeant Geary commanded, “sound off!”  
_“Motivated, motivated, damn right motivated, ooh, ah, I wanna hurt somebody, ooh, ah, I wanna kill somebody! Beat 'em with a stick, beat 'em with a stick, KILL, beat 'em with a stick, beat 'em with a stick, AAUGH!”_  
The cadre at Alpha looked at them curiously, with a few asking what the hell they were doing. The smile across the First Sergeant's face told Ruby she was immensely proud of them, congratulating them for being so loud. Alpha tried to respond, but they were barely audible. Good, Ruby thought. Nobody could beat them, not today.

The day's exercises in the Emerald Forest done, they were marched for the last time to the buses, driven home, and marched into the barracks, where they began to do physical exercises for various offenses, both real and imagined. Medical call came after the exercises were done, and, bizarrely enough, they were given an hour of free time until lights out, time for them to rest.

At least, rest until they were ordered to learn more about each other. Each squad had been sent to their rooms, and told they were to learn as much as possible. There would be a “quiz” later, Sergeant Adel said. How there could be a quiz on things she wasn't sure they knew was beyond Ruby.

Ruby and Weiss took their chairs and set them across from each other, both exhausted from the day once more and just wanting to sit for more than five minutes. Weiss wiped her brow with her arm, removing a thick layer of sweat that had accumulated on it.  
“So,” Weiss said, reflecting on her arm with disgust, “I suppose we should just get the elephant in the room out of the way.”  
“Did you ever talk to Sergeant Daichi?” Ruby asked, concerned. She hadn't seen Weiss break off to do so, but she also couldn't watch her the entire time they were in the Emerald Forest.  
“No,” Weiss said. “But that's not what I was going to talk about. We're not Nazis.”  
Ruby tilted her head, looking at Weiss confused. “What?”  
“Did you already forget?” Weiss asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Belladonna doesn't know what she's talking about. My family wasn't involved in what the Nazis did.”

“Of course not,” Blake said, appearing around the corner. “You just looked the other way like good little Krauts.”  
“I don't think you quite understand. None of us knew what was happening when it was. My father was just a child when Hitler was in power.” Weiss said, narrowing her eyes.  
Blake laughed, but it wasn't a joyful laugh. It was the sort of reaction one had when faced with the total absurdity of a situation, where you couldn't do anything but give a hollow laugh.  
“And of course Grandpa Schnee was just one of the good ones, right? Where was he when the death camps were up and running?”  
Weiss stood up, her tone as ice-cold as her name. “Would you rather he be shot, or sent to fight the Russians? We did what we had to to _survive_. I don't expect _you_ to understand that.”  
Blake's eyes had a fire in them, but her voice was just as cold as Weiss's as she said, “My grandparents met in an internment camp. My grandfather had to beg to join the US Army, and when he did, he had to prove himself as an equal to everyone else by killing as many Germans and Italians as he could.”

“Well,” Weiss said, somewhat sincerely. “I'm sorry your family has been treated that way.”  
“You don't know what mistreatment is,” Blake said. “You've been a pampered rich kid of a multimillion dollar arms dealing family your whole life. You never did any work to get here, so why should I treat you like an equal?”

Weiss took a deep breath in, clearly angry but restraining herself, until she let her breath out, her shoulders visibly relaxing.  
“Do you know how _hard_ it is to translate every word the sergeants say into German? To hope that I hear them right?” Weiss asked, doing her level best not to let tears flow. “I could have had anything at the _Führungsakademie_. I could have had any position I wanted in the _Bundeswehr_. But I _chose_ to come here, to join Beacon. Here, I don't get the benefit of choice, I have to hope that I do well enough on my own to get what I want.”

“Hold on, what's the...” Yang said, struggling to form the words, “Fyurngs academy?”  
“ _Führungsakademie des Atlas_ ,” Weiss corrected. “My father wanted me to go to it, join the _Bundeswehr_. They're the premier German military academy, and every Schnee has gone there.”  
“All except one, obviously,” Blake commented.  
“Yes,” Weiss said, “because my father only wanted me there so he could keep a close eye on me. He doesn't control my life.”  
Yang stepped in between Weiss and Blake, pointedly looking at each of them as she said, “Alright, so it's out there, we've all had issues. Are we all good now?”

Blake and Weiss stared at each other through Yang, both equally unwilling to concede any emotional vulnerability. Weiss had folded her arms defiantly, daring Blake to accuse her of something again. Blake, meanwhile, seemed fully confident she was in the right, totally relaxed and slowly tapping a finger on her arm, waiting for Weiss to say something.

Ruby's musing on this and their night came to an end with the familiar pounding on the door, ordering them to stop talking, turn off their lights, and go to sleep.


	6. The Shining Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 of Induction Week. The cadets are shown campus traditions and memorials, disassemble an M60, and meet the company captain. Ruby Rose finds something she knew would be there all along.

Bravo was ordered to appear in The Pit in full uniform, their first time doing so this week. Today, they would be taking a tour of the campus and learning its traditions, and later on would have what First Sergeant Geary only referred to as “hands-on” training.

As per usual, they were marched outside to formation, and then to breakfast. Today's meal involved scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. The sight of real, cooked food was met with cheers from some cadets after yesterday's debacle of science experiment-like “food” from the MREs. Ruby was just happy to be able to eat. She thought they would go straight into the tour, followed up with pushups for some reason.

After breakfast, Bravo was led around various parts of the campus, first off being the drill field. Here, they were told this very field was where the class of 1941 was informed of the attack on Pearl Harbor. A new, unofficial regulation came into play here as well: under no circumstances was anyone, civilian, cadet, staff, or cadre, allowed to utilize the drill field as a shortcut. If they were to enter the drill field, they had to exit the same way they came in. Unspecified punishments were to befall them should they fail to adhere to this.

They were escorted to the front gate next, where as first years, they were forbidden from entering the large gates. They were to use the smaller gate just to the right, as part of campus superstition where first-years who entered it brought doom upon themselves, and a possible early death on the off-chance they earned a commission. The front gate and arches themselves were dedicated to the class of 1951, ninety percent of whom had died in the Korean War.

Other highlights on the tour of campus were the various howitzers and cannons situated outside and around the campus, from the M116 pack howitzer used in morning reveille and official functions, twin 105mm howitzers situated outside the front gates to Beacon, and a French 75 posted near their barracks. The landmark which gave the school its name was a decommissioned lighthouse just barely within the campus confines, overlooking the entire school. Tradition meant it was maintained, ready to be lit for special events and ceremonies. Another superstition claimed that should a cadet see the spirit of General Wysteland, Beacon's founder, in the lighthouse, they would find good luck in their lives. So far, no cadet had reported seeing him since 1922.

They approached a small square, laid out between their barracks and chow hall. She had never noticed it before, but each brick on the ground had names and dates on it. What were they?  
“This, Bravo,” First Sergeant Geary said, “is the Memorial Plaza. Each student of Beacon who has fallen has a place here. These are the men and women who came before you, Bravo.”  
The significance of it was not lost on Ruby. She immediately began searching once they were allowed to take some time to pay their respects, knowing what she would find but dreading it nonetheless. There, near the center of the plaza where Beacon's crest had been carved into the ground, she found it.

Captain Summer Rose  
5th Special Forces Group  
June 8th, 1942 – May 11th, 1968

To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. Sure, Ruby had visited her mother's gravestone at the cemetery, but this...this was beyond that. Mom had walked these same steps, seen these same sights. Hundreds of people walked past her memory every day, none knowing her story or the people she left behind.

“Everything alright, Rose?” First Sergeant Geary asked, standing next to Ruby as she cried her eyes out.  
Yang too was next to her, having already found the same brick as her and comforting Ruby as best she could.  
“It's all good, First Sergeant,” Yang explained. “This...this is our mom, is all.”  
“Oh,” First Sergeant Geary said. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

True to her word, First Sergeant Geary allowed Ruby and Yang time to spend with their mother's memorial. Ruby wasn't sure how long it had been before they were ordered to move out, to move to another part of the campus for another show-and-tell, but it was good to see it. Knowing that Mom's memory was here with her made the day a bit more bearable.

Their next stop was the Military Learning Institute, where their military-related classes would take place at. Also here were the offices of their senior leadership, and while they wouldn't be meeting them today, Bravo was taken by the offices of Colonel Port and Major Oobleck. Also in the MLI was the office of Command Chief Warrant Officer Glynda Goodwitch, a name that was spoken almost with fear even among the most senior of their cadre.

Conveniently, the MLI was also where the “fun” part of their day was to begin. Bravo was shuffled into a room full of tables, chairs, and curiously, a machine gun on each table. Ruby, Weiss, Yang and Blake each took one table, and waited for further instructions. At the head of the room stood an officer, waiting for Bravo to filter in and take their seats.

“This, Cadets,” he said, picking up a machine gun of his own to demonstrate, “is the M60 general-purpose machine gun. It is gas-operated, firing from an open bolt, and is accurate out to 1,200 yards firing 100 or 200-round belts of 7.62x51mm NATO ammunition, weighing 23 pounds without ammunition.”

After this brief overview of the weapon, they were taken though how to disassemble the weapon. They first had to make sure it was “clear”, meaning not loaded with any ammunition or ready to fire. This was easy enough to check – there were no rounds loaded, nor was it cocked and ready to go. Still, though, the officer had them lift the feed tray cover to check anyway. Next, they pulled back the bolt, lifted the feed tray up, “rode the bolt home” as the officer described it, and removed the buttstock.

Next, ensuring the gun wasn't on safe, they removed the bolt entirely from the weapon. They took apart the bolt assembly entirely, breaking it apart into an operating rod, bolt, spring, and drive rod, setting these to the side. The barrel came next, where all it took was a simple latch. The handguard was taken off next, utilizing a cleaning rod to take it off, a massive effort due in part to the sheer amount of force it took to disengage it. The trigger assembly was next, also difficult due to the angles involved. For this, the cleaning rod has to be used again to pop a retaining latch off the trigger assembly, allowing them to work out the pin locking the rest of it in place. Throughout it all, the officer urged them to be careful, not to let springs fly out at them, and berating more than a few who began to do things before he had given the go-ahead.

There was certainly more to be done, the officer said, but their time was up and they would not be taking the entire weapon apart. Ruby was massively disappointed. She wanted to see exactly how the rest of it operated, and try her hand at putting it all back together again. But, orders were orders, and they once again were guided to another part of the building and lined up. Just beyond the doorway they had formed a line in front of, Ruby could hear gunshots. The sergeants told them they would be conducting basic rifle training today as well.

Halfway through Bravo's turn on the indoor firing range, the sergeants suddenly began whispering to themselves in panicked tones. What was going on?  
“Bravo!” First Sergeant Geary said. “Chief Goodwitch is heading our way! You will not address her as 'ma'am', she is not an officer, you will not address her as 'sergeant', she is not a sergeant! You will address her as 'Chief Goodwitch', do you understand that?!”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”  
“Bravo, when she passes by us, I want you to say 'Good afternoon, Chief Goodwitch', is that understood?!”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”

Heavy footsteps followed, and right behind it were shouts of “Good afternoon, Chief!”. The shouts and footsteps came down the hall towards them. Sergeant Adel told them to be ready to sound off as loud as possible.  
“Good afternoon, Chief Goodwitch!” Bravo shouted as she passed by.  
Her only response was to wave dismissively in their direction, heading past them into the firing range, followed by two others whose ranks Ruby didn't see.  
“Great job, Bravo,” First Sergeant Geary said when she had gotten out of earshot.

Slowly, the line advanced further until Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang got their chance to enter the firing range. Each of them were given hearing protection then guided to individual stations, where a rifle and a magazine lay. Downrange, a target riddled with bullet holes stood, but just barely. Each one looked like it threatened to fall over at any second. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby saw Chief Goodwitch occupying a chair, a clipboard in her hand. What was she taking notes on?

A sergeant had Ruby lay on the floor, in what he called the “prone supported” position. He gave her the unloaded rifle, and told her how to align the sights. Once this was done, he knelt down and loaded the magazine in for her, racking the bolt to make sure it was prepared to fire.  
“Keep your finger off the trigger until we give the order to fire,” he said, moving her finger away and fixing other parts of her stance.  
Ruby's breathing slowed as she waited for the signal to open fire. As time ticked down, the sergeant reminded her she had only 10 rounds in the magazine, and to take her time shooting. The recoil would probably surprise her at first, he warned.

A bell rang, and from somewhere else, a sergeant shouted, “Open fire!”. Ruby moved her finger to the trigger, and squeezed – not pulled – the trigger, sending a shot downrange, and the rifle kicking hard into her shoulder. It would have hit her face, if her grip on it hadn't kept it from doing so.  
“It's a heavy kick,” the sergeant said, holding a hand on her shoulder to help her on future shots. “Fire off some more rounds, Cadet.”  
Taking another breath in, Ruby squeezed the trigger again, less surprised by the recoil this time. Another round down, then another, and another until she had exhausted the magazine.

“Good job,” the sergeant said, taking the rifle from her and removing the magazine. “Next time, don't lift your head up to check your shots. Keep your view in your sights.”  
“Yes, sergeant!”  
Ruby was told to stand by while others finished on the firing range. Once they were, she, her squad, and a couple others were marched outside into the sun, where Bravo was standing in the shade of a tree. Each cadet was already studying their Knowledge, a task Ruby and her friends took up once they fell into formation.

“Cadet Rose!” Sergeant Daichi shouted. “Sound off!”  
“This is not a happy place, sergeant!”  
“Cadet Valkyrie,” another sergeant shouted, “sound off!”  
“I'm queen of the castle, sergeant!”  
Ruby heard a few of the sergeants chuckling as they sounded off. They probably couldn't help it – they were saying some pretty strange things, after all. Yang's soundoff was now “Going off with a _Yang”_ , Weiss's was a string of German that Ruby didn't understand, and Blake's had been kept secret from them, to be unleashed at “the right moment”.

Soon enough, the entire company was reunited, and in return for being so enthusiastic during the day, they finally were allowed to march with a cadence. Sergeant Adel quickly taught them what they were to say and when, and began the march to their barracks.

_“I went to a McDonalds/To get a Big Mac” Sergeant Adel sang as they marched, “That's when the psycho/Started his attack.”_  
 _“McDoooooooooon-alds mas-ac-rrrrrrrrrrrre,”_ Bravo sounded off.  
_“I went to the counter/To get an apple pi-ie/That's when the psycho/Let his bullets fly-y.”_  
 _“McDoooooooooon-alds mas-ac-rrrrrrrrrrrre!”_  
 _“And ole Ronald McDonald/Was countin' the wounded and dead/That's when the psycho/Shot him in the head.”_  
 _“McDoooooooooon-alds mas-ac-rrrrrrrrrrrre!”_  
 _“The moral of the story,”_ Sergeant Adel said, finishing their cadence, _“When you wanna bite to eat/Drive straight past McDonald's/And stop at Burger King.”_

Sergeant Alistair kept pace with Ruby, ordering her to be louder. He told Arc the same thing, noting he was too quiet. Since they hadn't reached their barracks yet, Sergeant Adel started up another cadence, this time with the sergeants joining in on the chorus to help the cadets out.

_“Field artillery, the king of battle,”_ she sang, _“We fought in every war, we cleared the way!”_  
 _“Field artillery, the king of battle,_ ” Bravo called out.  
_“We fought at Bunker Hill, we cleared the way!”_  
 _“Field artillery, the king of battle!”_  
 _“We fought in 1812, we cleared the way!”_  
 _“Field artillery, the king of battle!”_  
 _“We fought the Civil War, we cleared the way!”_

Their march and cadence came to a stop as they approached the barracks, ordered to hold position just beyond the doors to the building. All was quiet for a moment, and then the retreat sounded. Bravo as a whole faced the flag on campus, saluting it as the bugle called out, signaling the end of the day.

Once the bugle ended, they were marched inside, where First Sergeant Geary had been joined by a new person, an officer by the looks of it. They rushed into The Pit as usual, ordered to take formation immediately upon entering. The officer looked upon them as they formed up, with an eagle-like eye cast upon them.

“Good evening, Bravo,” he said.  
“Good evening, sir!”  
“I am Captain Murdock, your company commander. I'd like to take the time we have tonight before you go to bed to get to know each other. We'll start with me. I am a Junior, and currently working on my chemistry degree. Like all of you, it is my aim to be a commissioned officer in the United States Army. Are there any questions you may have for me?”  
Nikos raised her hand, to which Captain Murdock pointed to her, allowing her to speak.  
“Sir,” she asked, “where are you from?”  
“Lubbock, Texas, Cadet. Good question. Anyone else?”

Ren raised his hand as well, and was subsequently called on.  
“Sir, what do you intend to do with your degree?”  
“Even better question!” Captain Murdock said. “I intend to join the Chemical Warfare Corps. Should I not achieve that, I have considered a career in forensic science. Anyone else?”  
Throughout the Q&A session, Ruby learned that Captain Murdock had been inspired to join Beacon by his grandfather's service in WWII, he spoke Hungarian, had four sisters, none of whom had followed him to Beacon, and that his favorite color was red, “the blood of angry men”.

Captain Murdock then polled the company, asking who owned vehicles, and if they did, what they drove. Most of them didn't own a personal vehicle, excluding Yang, Valkyrie, and Arc.  
“You,” he said, pointing to Yang, “what do you drive?”  
“Sir, a Kawasaki Z500!”  
“What color?”  
“Yellow, sir!”  
“Sport rider, huh? Nice.” He called upon Arc next.  
“Sir,” he answered, “a 1977 Monte Carlo!”  
“Kind of a grandma car for you, ain't it? I hope you got that thing in black, at least.”  
“No sir, white!”  
“I guess that's good enough.”

Finally, he called upon Nora. “What do you drive?”  
“A 1975 Bug, sir!”  
Captain Murdock pounded his hands on the table he was sitting behind, in disbelief. He looked back up at Valkyrie, clearly excited to hear more.  
“A Bug?! What color?”  
“Pink, sir!”  
Again, he pounded his hands on the table, guffawing loudly.  
“A pink Bug! That's good, Cadet, that's real good. I cannot _believe_ you gave us so much ammo!”  
The barely-contained grins of the nearby sergeants told Ruby that they'd find any possible way to use this against Valkyrie. Did she care? Ruby couldn't read her expression.

Captain Murdock ended the night by going around, assigning sound-offs to those who hadn't yet been given one, mostly basing it off their favorite movie. Once he had done that, they were again sent to their rooms, but with virtually no time to talk to one another before lights-out. All they knew about tomorrow was that they would have to appear in uniform once again.


	7. Players and Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 of Induction Week. The cadets head to the Ranger Station for more training. A special ceremony is held for them at the end of the day.

More banging on the door. Another light-speed change into uniforms. More running to The Pit, and then escorted outside once each male had been inspected to see if they had adequately shaved. It was still pitch-black out, and the sound of bugs calling out echoed around them. There was no formation outside today. They were instead led directly onto parked buses, and shoved in like sardines.

The sergeants were uncharacteristically silent as the buses drove them away from campus, to where Ruby didn't know and couldn't see. They stopped after some time, how long Ruby didn't know. She had long been unable to tell time for the past several days. All she knew was that they were on the sixth day, and Graduation Day was tomorrow. One more day, that's all she had to handle.

The bus stopped at a small church, illuminated by lights. They were gathered up in front of the church grounds, and then divided into three lines. Ruby was part of the first rank this time, but who was next to her she couldn't tell through the pitch-black veil of night. Somebody was in front of her, but she couldn't see their rank.

“Alright, Bravo,” First Sergeant Geary called out. “We're heading to the Ranger Station for more training today. It's a 5-mile march, so whatever you gotta do, keep it in until we hit the halfway point. Myself and another will be at the front with lights, this is so we don't fall into any holes and trip. If you see a hole, call out 'hole' as loud as you can, understand?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”  
“Company,” she ordered, “march!”

Almost immediately, Ruby tripped over an unseen hole. She fell to the ground, hard, audibly yelping on instinct. The First Sergeant and another person turned around, looking her over.  
“Are you alright, Rose?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!” Ruby answered, scrambling to get back up.  
“Good, let's move out then.”

Their march was silent, owing to the hour of the day and lack of necessity in calling out a cadence. No talking was allowed, except to call out holes, leaving Ruby alone with her thoughts as her boots beat down the packed dirt below. Only the sound of dozens of boots marching in unison could be heard as they made their way down the road. Ahead of her, the path was illuminated by the soldier in front of her with a headlamp, one of only two sources of light they had on their march.

“You doing alright back there, Rose?” the soldier asked after about an hour of marching.  
“Uh, yes, Sergeant,” she said, surprised by the question.  
He said a reply back, but Ruby had already called out another hole for them to avoid, and didn't hear the response. Was he telling her not to say something? Telling her who he was? She couldn't tell, and that fact would bother her for the rest of the trip.

Eventually, they made it to the halfway point, where they rested for a few brief moments to allow people to go to the bathroom and get water if they needed it. Ruby opted to drink some water, waiting for others to be done with their business. By now, the sun had begun to rise, covering the scene with a blue hue that, in other circumstances, would be peaceful. Here, however, the presence of sergeants more than eager to punish any lapse in military bearing prevented Ruby from enjoying it.

It was at this point Ruby noticed that the man she had been calling a “sergeant” the entire march was actually a Major. Where had he come from? Who _was_ he? A small cross hung from his neck, maybe a chaplain? But it wasn't unusual for some to show their faith. Maybe he was part of the company?

Ruby was unable to speculate any further as the company got the order to move out once again, continuing their march to the Ranger station. Imperceptibly, the sun rose even higher, changing the blue blanket of early dawn to the full color of the day, signaling to Ruby that it had to be past seven now. Their march took them over many a hill, and even over a stream, where they were ordered to step out of cadence so as not to collapse the bridge.

Eventually, they finally reached the Ranger station, and shuffled to rows of bleachers that had been set up for them. The bleachers faced a sheer cliff face, a possible preview of the day to come. Ruby had heard stories about this from Dad too, scaling the cliff. When he had attended Beacon, they didn't have the “tower” as he called it, which was an addition only after he graduated. What they did have, however, was this cliff that Dad claimed had paralyzed even Qrow into inaction.

MREs were distributed to them once again for “breakfast”. Ruby got Menu #3, Beef Patty, an entree Weiss had derisively referred to as the “hockey puck”. When she opened the pouch containing it, she saw why. It was a hard, tasteless, solid circle of meat that barely even qualified as food. But, well, it was something, and eat it she did anyway. Only the freeze-dried fruit, the crackers, and peanut butter were somewhat palatable, offering some taste to an increasingly bland meal.

Here, they were given an overview of what was to come during the day as they ate. A variety of individual challenges and lessons were mixed in today, as well as the foreboding cliff rappel and tower rappel. The latter two would be where each company would, one by one, send their cadets down with only the guidance of trusted sergeants and officers to ensure they didn't die horrifyingly on their way down.

With that positive note, trash was collected and they were escorted away to various stations. For Bravo and Alpha companies, the tower rappel was first. Alpha went first, and each cadet in the company was given a helmet, gear, and told to line up. The line snaked into the tower, and only emerged again at the top of it, where each Alpha cadet rappelled down, shouted out their name, and stepped off the line to discard their helmet and gear to a waiting sergeant. As the line dwindled, Bravo too was outfitted with gear and told to line up, though never were Alpha and Bravo to mix in the line.

Ruby stood in nervous anticipation in the tower, hearing the sounds of rope snapping taught and gear jingling as cadets headed down the tower. Shouts of cadet names occurred with a regular frequency, reminding her that it would all be over in just a few short moments. But, those moments before were the worst.

Although, perhaps Arc next to her had it worst of anyone else. His breathing was short and labored, and his head snapped from one side to the next like a panicked animal on the lookout for threats. The line kept advancing regardless of any anxiety on the cadet's part, and face the gauntlet of the rappel tower they must.

Arc was first. Ruby was too far away to hear anything he or the sergeant said, but she could see he was visibly panicking as he was walked through the motions of rappelling. She had little time to watch, though. Another station opened up, and soon Ruby was on her way down. A sergeant ordered her to stand still, attaching hooks and clips to her gear.

“Alright, Cadet,” he said, giving her the rope, “put your hand here.”  
He moved Ruby's hand to the small of her back, telling her this was her brake hand. She was to pull this out if she felt in any danger whatsoever, as well as to modulate her speed. Her other hand was to remain in front of her at all times, to keep her upright as she moved down the rope. A final check was made to ensure everything was correct, this done by a different sergeant, and then she was finally allowed to go down.

“Cadet Rose, on rappel!” Ruby shouted, alerting the sergeant below that she was ready.  
“Alright, Cadet,” the sergeant at the top said, kneeling to watch her technique. “Step to the ledge, and sit down straight, then walk your way down.”  
As counter-intuitive as it was, Ruby managed to do so anyway, beginning her descent to the ground. After a few steps down the tower, the sergeant encouraged Ruby to “hop” her way down, making her descent faster and freeing up the station for others.  
In all, Ruby performed admirably on the rappel tower, doing the hops perfectly and landing softly and safely.  
As she ran backwards to free herself of the line, Ruby shouted, “Cadet Rose, off rappel!”

Her task done, she returned the helmet and gear, heading to rejoin her company. As she headed to where they had been seated, Ruby passed by Arc, speaking to the First Sergeant, overhearing that a US Army Sergeant Major wanted to speak to Arc. The First Sergeant heavily reminded him what his rank was, and to treat him with respect.

Back in her assigned seat, Ruby watched Arc head over to the waiting Sergeant Major, where the two had a short conversation. She couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about.  
“Cadet Xiao Long, on rappel!”  
Ruby's attention was brought back to the tower, where she saw Yang make her way down the tower fearlessly, hopping before the sergeant had even told her to. Next to her, Weiss was preparing to make the same jump.  
“Cadet Schnee, _abseilen!_ ”  
“In English, Schnee!” First Sergeant Geary yelled.  
“Cadet Xiao Long, off rappel!” Yang shouted, confident as ever.

Weiss's rappel down was less fast-paced than Yang's and certainly speedier than Ruby's, though it had a serious amount of cautiousness within it. She too had to be ordered to speed it up, until she eventually hit dirt, like with many others before her running backwards and shouting that she was off rappel, this time in English.

After long enough, the entire company had done a turn on the tower, and they were moved to a small pit where an officer stood in the middle. Ropes were laid upon railings that surrounded the pit, which itself was covered by a gazebo of sorts. Here, an officer lectured them on how to tie certain types of knots, but this lesson was lost on Ruby. No matter how hard she tried, none of the shapes she was supposed to make worked, and by the time this lecture ended, she felt she had learned nothing.

The next stop was a similar setup to the last, except a circular pit had been replaced by a covered area, with sand covering the floor. A sergeant demonstrated the low crawl, high crawl, and bear crawl, and four at a time they were ordered to crawl. Each of them were ordered to make sure they got their faces into the sand, and their uniforms were covered in dust and sand by the time they had finished.

Once again, they were moved to another part of the area, where the sun now oppressively beat down on them as it began to come out in full force. White tape formed the shape of a basic room on the grass, and they were treated to a demonstration by Rogue Platoon on how to clear a room. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang, Nikos, and Arc were picked to form a breaching element and given rubber rifles to replicate what they had seen Rogue Platoon do.

Ruby was placed at the front, the “door-checker”. Her task was to check for an open or closed door (always open in this case). If it were closed, she would have to check for booby traps. That task done, Ruby now had to lean back to indicate to the rest of her team it was time to breach. She had to wait until she felt a push back, a silent indicator that all members was ready.

Like she had seen, Ruby crouched down, allowing Yang, Blake, Weiss, Nikos and Arc to move past her, counting them off as they cleared the room. Once they had all passed her and she counted off five, she too moved in, aiming her rifle at the center of the room, where all other rifles were now trained. She knew as the last one in, all other corners had to have been cleared.

“Room clear!” Ruby shouted.  
“Good,” a Rogue Platoon sergeant said. “Now exit.”  
Instantly, the six of them formed up on each other, covering each angle of the room. Ruby aimed at an imaginary door, counting off each person that passed by her until eventually only she was left. She quickly exited the room, taking up the rear as they moved out past the white tape.

“Good job,” the Rogue Platoon sergeant said as he took back their rifles. “You could have been faster entering, but you checked all your corners and your pointman was solid. Good job, Cadets, you did a hell of a lot better than most of your comrades today.”

Their part over, they watched others execute the same maneuver, with varying success. Some failed to check the right corners, others managed to sweep each other with their weapons, drawing the ire of the Rogue Platoon sergeant, and still others forgot to count off how many they entered and left with. Ruby wondered how she and her friends had managed to do so well, having never done any tactical maneuvers like this before.

However, there was little time to reflect on this. Another obstacle stood in their path. In pairs, Bravo was sent to tackle two new obstacles. The first one was a rope hung over a small stream, where they had to grip from underneath with their hands and legs and propel themselves across the river, where waiting sergeants would catch them should their strength fail.

Ruby had relatively little difficulty getting over, but her pair, Arc, certainly had trouble. His arms gave out halfway through the obstacle, and only the timely intervention of the sergeants prevented him from plunging into the stream itself. From there, they were only told to follow “the path” to the rope bridge.

The vague directions didn't help them when they quickly realized they weren't sure what path to follow. Two stood in front of them, an easy path that looked right but easily could have been wrong, an a rough path that looked like it had been cut by a madman with a machete. Eventually, Ruby and Arc made the decision to follow the easy path, since the rough path didn't even appear to go in the right direction.

They made their way up a small hill, where three sergeants hung around on one end of the rope bridge. Ahead of them, cadets from Alpha were preparing to cross over, giving Ruby ample time to observe the bridge. The entire structure looked straight out of an adventure book, not at all stable for more than one person and definitely able to kill if someone took a wrong step. However, the sergeants had laid out a second rope that hung above the bridge, which they would be hooked to just in case they should somehow fall, they wouldn't go far or be threatened with harm.

“Alright, Arc,” Ruby said as she and Arc were hooked up, “see you on the other side!”  
“Oh boy,” Arc said, clearly freaking out. Ruby couldn't exactly blame him. They had to be no less than twenty feet above the raging river that the bridge spanned.  
Unfortunately for Ruby, Arc was first, and he was _agonizingly_ slow. Even a foot behind him, she could hear his panicked breathing as he made his way across the rope bridge, nearly losing his balance a few times until he straight-up paused halfway through.  
“Arc?” Ruby asked. “You okay?”  
“I, uh, I don't know,” he said.  
“You're almost there, cadet!” the sergeant on the opposite shore called out.  
“You can do this, Arc,” Ruby said, trying to be reassuring. “I believe in you.”

Slowly, Arc started moving again, bringing him and Ruby to the other side safe and sound. The sergeant on the other end ordered them to head to a small clearing not too far away, where they were to rest and get water in them. Once Ruby and Arc had made it over, they both took spots where they could, trying to find something to lean against to provide some rest from the day's activities.

“Jaune!” Nikos called out, heading for them. “I saw you on the bridge, I'm so proud of you!”  
“Huh?” Arc asked. “Why? All I did was cross it.”  
“You were brave, Jaune. You faced your fear and conquered it.”  
“Oh,” Arc said flatly. “I guess. Still have to face the cliff.”  
“You can do it!” Ruby chimed in. “I believe in you, Jaune!”

Soon enough, Yang, Weiss and Blake joined them in the rest area. Blake and Weiss looked irritated at each other, probably a result of having been paired together, Ruby speculated. Not much else made sense. They refused to speak to each other even as MREs were rolled out for lunch, barely even offering the other one of their items they didn't want.

Lunch too came to an end, and now only the cliff stood in front of them as their final challenge for the day. The entire company was marched up the cliffside, where ropes had been nailed into the stone walls to provide a stable foundation. A mix of cadre and soldiers, including the Sergeant Major Jaune had talked to earlier, stood by to guide them down the mountain.

Ruby had gotten a line next to Jaune's, but couldn't overhear their conversation. Well, at least the parts that were spoken normally. She definitely heard the Sergeant Major yelling at Jaune to freeze, stop freaking out, and listen to him. Once again Ruby was on her way down, rappelling down the cliff to the bottom. Next to her, Jaune was descending too, though clearly less controlled than she. He called out “falling” more than a few times, bumping against the rock as he stopped in an attempt to regain his footing.

Once again, upon reaching the bottom, Ruby rushed away from the line, shouting that she was “off rappel”. Having done that to satisfaction, she headed off to rejoin the company, to wait for others to finish. Jaune was right behind her, muttering how he couldn't believe he had just rappelled down a 30-foot cliff.

They reconvened at the bleachers where they had sat in the morning, waiting for the rest of the company to wrap up with the cliff. The First Sergeant and Sergeant Daichi wandered around the bleachers, as if looking for something. That suspicion was confirmed when they stopped next to Jaune.  
“Cadet Arc,” First Sergeant Geary said, “did you move Sergeant Daichi's hat?”  
“N-no, First Sergeant,” Jaune said. “There wasn't a hat when I got here.”  
First Sergeant Geary looked at him, and bent down and picked up a hat, clearly belonging to Sergeant Daichi. Ruby didn't have to see Jaune's face to know he was in full panic mode, trying to say he hadn't seen it, didn't know how it had gotten on the ground.  
“We'll deal with this later,” the First Sergeant said, handing the cap to Sergeant Daichi.

This scene notwithstanding, the day at the Ranger station ended without much other fanfare. Officers thanked them for performing so admirably on the various obstacles, and they were soon on the march again. This time, though, they only marched halfway before buses came to pick them up, taking them directly back to campus. Yet again they were formed up in The Pit. First Sergeant Geary congratulated them for being one of the best-behaved companies in the field, and ordered each cadet to head to their room and put on a fresh uniform, even graciously allowing some free time.

Immediately, Ruby, Yang, Weiss and Blake returned to The Pit, waiting for others. As they filtered in, First Sergeant Geary's face changed from a proud one to one of anger.  
“What the hell is this?” she asked once the company had formed up. “Did I not order you to change into fresh uniforms? Did you really just ignore an order from me?”  
Ruby looked around as much as she could get away with. Indeed, some cadets had not changed into new uniforms, still wearing the dirty ones from today. How dare they! Did they think they could have gotten away with that?

“You _would_ have had a pleasant walk to tonight's event,” First Sergeant Geary said. “But, since you failed to follow a _direct order_ , we will be running to the MLI!”  
She gave the order to form up outside, where they soon prepared to run in formation. Double-time was immediately ordered, to the shouts of their sergeants ordering them to go faster for their insubordination.  
“I can't do it!” Jaune shouted.  
“Here,” Ren shouted back. “One of you help me!”  
Blake fell out, helping Ren pull Jaune up into a fireman's carry on his back as Jaune gradually became weaker and weaker. She and Ruby helped Ren keep himself and Jaune steady as they ran to the MLI. When they were close to it, Ren had them help him get Jaune off.  
“Come on, Jaune,” Ren said. “It'll look better if you move there on your own.”

They formed up outside the MLI, where their cadre had appeared with company blue shirts on, a few of them carrying a log, a shield, a blue sledgehammer, and the company colors.  
“Today, Bravo,” First Sergeant Geary said, “you are no longer simply Cadets. You are now members of Bravo. You have proven yourselves worthy of this company's name, its badge of honor, and to call yourselves part of this family.”  
First Sergeant Geary explained each of the icons the sergeants held – log, shield and sledgehammer – represented the strength, unity, and will, respectively, of the company, and one cadet exemplified each of these. They would carry these to the Black Mountain run tomorrow, and were expected to carry them all the way.

Nikos was given the Bravo log. Jaune the shield. Yang the sledgehammer. The company colors were to be given to the cadet who, out of all of them, most represented the combined traits of Bravo, a Cadet Williams, someone Ruby had never met.  
“Cadet Belladonna,” Sergeant Adel shouted. “Sound off!”  
“Only the strong survive, sergeant!”  
It was explained to them that this was the official Bravo Company soundoff, and from now on, they would sound off in this manner as a company.

They were then ordered on their faces, and to do four pushups. One for the Corps. One for Bravo. One for tradition. And finally, one for the fallen. Once they had done their required pushups, the cadre came around and shook each of their hands.

It was real now. They were part of Bravo.


	8. The Black Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 of Induction Week. The cadets clean the drill field in preparation for their family's arrival, and face the dreaded Black Mountain Run. Afterwards, the cadets are shown to their classroom buildings if necessary, and recite the Cadet Code of Honor.

This morning, they were not awoken by a sergeant banging on their door. Well, perhaps not as strongly. They still banged on it, but there was no order to run into The Pit, no critical eye overlooking every movement they made. This morning's formation was more to remind them what they were signing up for, bringing them before the flag outside to salute it as the pack howitzer was fired to signal the day's beginning.

Breakfast came next, and several cadets were hand-picked by Sergeant Alistair to patrol the drill field to pick up any trash or debris that may be on it before the day's events. After all, family was coming. It had to look pristine just for them. Nobody could know that _trash_ had been allowed on their field.

Ruby, Ren, and three other cadets Ruby had never met were picked to pick up trash on the drill field, immediately after breakfast. For the most part, it was relatively boring. A few isolated wrappers here and there, rogue plastic wrap that somehow made it onto the field. It didn't seem like much would happen beyond routine today.

Until Ren fell into a hole.

The hole was less a hole, and more a drain pipe someone had left the cover off of. His leg disappeared into it, and he cried out in pain. Instantly, Ruby and Sergeant Alistair rushed over to help him, pulling him out of the pipe. That was when Ruby saw the wound on his leg, blood already coming out of it.

“That's not good,” Sergeant Alistair said. “That pipe's probably rusted. You're not running on that, not until we get a medic to check you out.”  
“And if he doesn't clear me?” Ren asked, genuinely concerned for the first time Ruby had known him.  
“You'll have to do it again later,” Sergeant Alistair explained. “No unit patch for you until you finish the run.”  
The vaunted unit patch of the Lighthouse Brigade was the only thing separating cadets like them from those who had proven themselves to be a part of Beacon's Corps of Cadets. Not being allowed to wear it was almost a social death sentence, as it signified a person who was unable, for one reason or another, to be called a member of the Corps. Policing the area came to an end without any further trouble, and they could do nothing but clean up the barracks while they waited for their families to arrive and for the Black Mountain run to officially begin.

Two hours later, they were once again formed up, and informed their families had arrived and that they would be undergoing the Black Mountain run. First Sergeant Geary reminded them that she was proud of their work, their undying spirit, and hoped that the enthusiasm they had brought would continue well beyond their lives as cadets at Beacon.

In their physical training uniforms, they were marched out the barracks and along the road surrounding the drill field, past crowds of equally enthusiastic parents, family members, friends, and attending military staff, as well as a plethora of photographers capturing every moment on film. They loudly sang out their cadences, including Sergeant Adel's favorite “McDonald's Massacre”, but Ruby wasn't sure anyone could hear them over the patriotic music that was loudly playing as they passed by. At the drill field's platform stood Commandant Ozpin, watching the proceedings. One by one, each company was marched out and put into position, just so for the Commandant.

“Cadets,” Commandant Ozpin said via microphone, broadcasting to all those in the area, “you have all made great strides since your first day here. Words cannot express how proud I am of each and every one of you. To the parents and family members of the cadets we have before us today, trust me when I say your sons and daughters, your nieces and nephews, your cousins, your brothers and sisters, have performed everything that was asked of them and more. They faced every challenge imaginable, and came back asking for more.”

“This class was broken down to nothing but the barest essentials, and rebuilt to be part of the finest students this academy has seen in ages. Each cadet came here with a goal, and each cadet walks onto this field with that same goal in mind, but finds themselves with a new purpose, a newly-unlocked drive within them to achieve that goal through any means necessary.”

“However, there is one final test that stands before them today. Before being inducted as official members of Beacon's Corps of Cadets, before becoming part of the Lighthouse Brigade, these cadets must face the Black Mountain Run. A two and a half mile run up and down the nearby Black Mountain, if you can see it there. This run is mandatory. No cadet is allowed to fall out for any reason whatsoever. Stopping here means throwing away everything a cadet has worked for in this past week.”

“But, I have confidence that each and every cadet before me will not only complete the run, but that we may see the fastest times on this run than we have since 1893. Cadets, your final challenge as part of Induction Week is before you. First Sergeants, prepare your companies to move out.”

One by one, each First Sergeant turned their company, and prepared them to begin the run. They would be going alphabetically, and therefore Bravo would be second out, second in. In theory, anyway. Ahead of her, Ruby watched Alpha move out, shouting merrily as they began the run. Once the last rank of Alpha had departed, it was Bravo's turn, with an equally loud “Only the strong survive!” cascading through their ranks as they began to run.

They were toured past the waiting family members, around the drill field, and then finally up aligned on a path up the mountain itself. The slope, which was gentle at first, soon sharply inclined, catching Ruby unprepared. She stumbled a few times, as did Weiss, Blake, and Yang next to her. Only the encouragement, literal this time, of the sergeants next to her kept Ruby moving.

Even with all of her training and conditioning for such a day, Ruby still found herself losing steam as they neared the top half of the Black Mountain run. Ruby looked around her, having lost track since beginning the steep ascent – Weiss had begun to fall out. Yang couldn't help her, she was having her own troubles running with the sledgehammer in her arms. Ruby wasn't sure where Blake was. Therefore, Ruby kept pace with Weiss, who Ruby presumed was probably swearing copiously in German.

“You can do this, Weiss!” Ruby shouted between heavy breaths.  
Weiss gave no response, only silently pleading for help. Ruby lifted Weiss's arm over her shoulders, helping support Weiss as best she could as they ran side-by-side for a few moments. Even then, Ruby's strength was sapped as well, and it became hard for her to run and keep Weiss upright. Out of nowhere, Blake came over, taking up Weiss's other arm.  
“Come on!” Blake said. “You're not giving up!”  
Ruby didn't have to look to know that Weiss was confused about this turn of events. Ruby was too, but none of them had the benefit of trying to figure out why Blake had decided to help. They just needed to get to the bottom of the mountain and cross the finish line.

Together, Blake and Ruby carried Weiss down the mountain, rotating out with Sergeant Scarlatina when one of them felt their strength fade. All around her, Ruby saw similar situations happening, with even Jaune not too far ahead, being carried by Nikos and Valkyrie. Soon enough, the finish line was in sight, where eager parents and official photographers waited to commemorate the event forever. It was at this point Blake and Ruby stopped carrying Weiss, since it would look better if she crossed the line on her own.

Ruby wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Dad waiting for her and Yang as they passed the crucible. She'd have to ask later. In the meanwhile, she and the rest of Bravo headed to waiting sergeants, who passed out bottles of Gatorade for them to drink at whatever pace they desired. Once again, they were formed up in the drill field, this time sweaty and exhausted rather than eager and ready for a run.

Once each company had returned to their starting positions, Commandant Ozpin made another speech, which was entirely too long and mostly something Ruby's tired mind glossed over. Only one part of it stood out, which she would remember for the rest of her life.  
“You will meet a variety of leaders in your professional and personal lives,” he said, “and you will learn from all of them. I encourage you, cadets, to imitate the practices of the good leaders you find yourselves under, and swear to avoid every habit of the bad leaders you come across.”

They had finally done it, he said. They were now officially members of the Lighthouse Brigade, and members of Beacon's Corps of Cadets. Company sergeants went around, handing out pins that had Beacon's crest emblazoned on it, as well as the year of the academy's foundation, 1870. Each pin was also received with a hearty handshake and a “Great job, Cadet” from the awarding sergeant, in Ruby's case, Sergeant Scarlatina.

Now, they were released to see their waiting family and friends. Already, Ruby could see Dad and Uncle Qrow, both in dress greens, heading for them. Yang and Ruby both met them halfway, nearly knocking Dad down on the ground as they hugged him.  
“I'm so proud of both of you,” Dad said to them, returning their hugs just as tightly.  
“You kids did pretty well out there,” Qrow said.  
“Thanks, Dad, thanks, Uncle Qrow,” Ruby said, trying not to be too overwhelmed with emotion.  
“We couldn't have done it without you guys.”

“Eh, I dunno about that,” Qrow said, shrugging. “You guys have this stuff in your blood.”  
“I'm sure your mom looked out for you the entire time,” Dad said, on the verge of tears himself. “You both are going to do great here. You can do anything you set your minds to.”  
“Rose! Xiao Long!”  
The sound of First Sergeant Geary's voice brought both Ruby and Yang out of their hug with Dad, and straight to parade rest as they anticipated her arrival. She moved towards them, first spotting them, and then noting the ranks of Dad and Uncle Qrow, saluting them first.  
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” First Sergeant Geary said, snapping to attention.  
“Good afternoon, First Sergeant,” Dad and Uncle Qrow said in unison, returning the salute and allowing her to relax.  
“Remember you two,” she said to Ruby and Yang, “there's a room inspection at 1600 hours. I want every room in Bravo to pass with flying colors, is that understood?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant!”

First Sergeant Geary nodded, bid Dad and Uncle Qrow farewell, and headed off to do something else. Probably warn others of the upcoming inspection.  
“Well?” Dad asked. “Do we get to see the new barracks?”  
“Yeah, I want to see what's changed since '64.”  
“Of course!” Ruby said, already dragging Uncle Qrow and Dad to their barracks. Not that they really _needed_ to be dragged.

Their journey back to the barracks was interrupted multiple times by cadre, both from Bravo and other companies, saluting Dad and Uncle Qrow, owing to their ranks as retired Majors. Nonetheless, it didn't diminish Ruby's enjoyment of having them here with them, even if Dad paused for a short moment at the Memorial Plaza to look at Mom's brick for a few moments.

In their dorm, they found Weiss, as well as a clearly older woman, outfitted in a West German army uniform, much like Weiss's. They were speaking to one another in German, and on instinct both turned their attention to the newcomers as they entered. The woman tilted her head at Dad and Uncle Qrow as Ruby explained to them that Weiss was her roommate, and that they were in her side of the dorm now.

_“Du hast mir nicht erzählt, dass ihre Familie von Spezialeinheiten kam,”_ the woman said, speaking to Weiss but still looking over Dad and Uncle Qrow.  
_“Ich wusste nicht,”_ Weiss said, shrugging. “Uh, Ruby, Yang, this is my sister, Winter, _Stabshauptmann, Fernspählehrkompanie 200.”_  
“I know you guys,” Uncle Qrow said. “West German deep recon, right? I did an exchange with a few of you after 'Nam.”  
“Very perceptive,” Winter said, switching to English. “Certainly not every day I meet American special forces. Are these your daughters?”  
“My daughters, his nieces,” Dad explained.  
“You must be very proud,” Winter said, switching back to German to speak to Weiss briefly, then departing.

Silence reigned for a few moments as Winter made her leave, awkwardly placing Ruby and Yang between Dad and Qrow on one side, and Weiss on the other.  
“So,” Dad finally said, “German, huh? It's nice to meet you.”  
“Likewise,” Weiss said, almost tempted to salute until Qrow asked her not to.  
“I see this place hasn't changed much,” Qrow observed, looking over their room. “Looks about like what we had in '64, huh, Tai?”  
“Yeah,” Dad said wistfully.”Like stepping into an old pair of shoes.”  
“I thought these barracks were built new?” Weiss asked.  
“Eh, same pattern. I guess Beacon didn't want to shell out money for a new architect.”

Dad and Uncle Qrow asked the usual questions – what their First Sergeant was like, how they enjoyed Beacon so far, any special units they planned to join – for about fifteen minutes until Dad checked his watch.  
“Well,” he announced, “I'd hate to do this, but I think we have to go, Qrow.”  
“Figured as much. Can't stick around these kids forever.”  
Despite Ruby and Yang's protests, they did indeed have to leave, and after a final hug and well-wishes on both ends, Dad and Uncle Qrow left. Blake entered not long after they had exited, conspicuously without family members.

“Hey, Blake,” Yang asked. “Did your parents already leave?”  
“Oh,” Blake said, rubbing the back of her head awkwardly. “Uh, they...they couldn't make it out. Long flight, you know?”  
“Oh, yeah,” Yang said. “Makes sense.”  
“Alright,” Weiss declared, “we don't have long before the sergeants start getting on us about cleaning our room for inspection. We should prepare for it now.”  
“This place is pretty spotless,” Yang said. “What much else can we _do?”_  
“There's _always_ something more to do,” Weiss replied. “The sergeants will want this room pristine.”  
“I guess it doesn't hurt to tidy up a bit,” Blake commented, heading to her side of the dorm to begin work.

The four settled into work, with Weiss obsessively going over the placement of every item in her closet with a ruler, ensuring each and every hat, boot, and hangar was set exactly to requirements. Ruby dusted off anything she could find that needed it, while Blake and Yang took turns vacuuming their side of the room and the shared floor that connected the dorm to the hallway.

Ruby was still halfway through dusting things off when she became aware of Weiss slowly getting near her, trying to be discrete but failing.  
“Do you think anyone saw?” Weiss asked quietly.  
“Saw what?” Ruby asked, oblivious to any inferences Weiss was making.  
“Saw Belladonna helping me on the Black Mountain run.”  
“Oh. Uh. I don't know. Maybe? What does it matter?”  
Weiss sighed, looking sadder than Ruby had ever seen her.  
“All I wanted to do was prove I didn't need anyone's help when I came here. I didn't need my father's blessing, or my sister's help, or anything other than my own will. If anyone saw I couldn't do the Black Mountain run without help...what does that make me?”

“Human,” Blake said, once again appearing around the corner, vacuum in hand. “I helped you out because no matter how I feel about your family's company and its past, you're still my teammate until I get transferred. I don't leave teammates behind.”  
“Even the daughter of a so-called Nazi?” Weiss asked, barely hiding the accusatory tone of the last words.  
“Especially the daughter of a so-called Nazi,” Blake said. “I don't have to like you, Weiss. As long as we stay out of each others hair, that's all I need.”  
“Then we're agreed, I suppose,” Weiss said, about ready to get back to work. She paused for a few moments, trying to form words, or perhaps find a way to put it nicely. “Thank you, Blake,” she finally said, “for helping me. I'll...I'll try to return the favor someday.”  
“It's not a favor,” Blake replied. “You're not indebted to me.”

With nothing further to talk about, Blake went back to work vacuuming, cutting off conversation by way of the noise of the vacuum. Weiss shook her head, turning back to help Ruby get her things in order.

Their room soon was in proper order, so clean you could eat off the floor if you really wanted to, and free of dust and other annoying blights. Their boots were properly lined up, each pair exactly an inch apart from one another, with the untied laces neatly packed away and out of sight. Their garrison and parade caps were lined up above their uniforms, each uniform exactly six inches apart and neatly arranged, free of wrinkles and dirt.

A sergeant knocked on the door, indicating an inspection. Ruby headed to open the door, and waited for the sergeant to pass by her, calling the room to attention. Yang, Weiss, and Blake each snapped to attention in their rooms, standing by their desks for the sergeant's critical eye to pass over their room and give them a go or no go.

He passed by Ruby's room first, carefully looking over each element to make sure nothing was out of place. Weiss's drawer was opened, revealing her carefully arranged formal wear and a company scarf expertly folded according to regulations. The sergeant nodded, satisfied, heading next to Blake and Yang's room.  
“You should only keep this laundry bag half-full,” he told Blake. “Take some of this out, wash it when you can.”  
“Yes, Sergeant!”  
Finding nothing else that needed criticism, the sergeant soon left, giving them a pass and declaring they had done an excellent job.

The second the door had shut and the sergeant had left, they celebrated, cheering over their first passed inspection. This was short-lived when another knock came at the door, and again Ruby opened the door, calling the room to attention. Another sergeant prowled in, checking every corner like he was clearing the room rather than inspecting it.

“Sergeant,” Yang began, “this room has already been-”  
“I don't care,” the sergeant said. “I'm doing _my_ inspection. Keep quiet unless I speak to you.”  
The sergeant barely made it two feet into the room before he stopped, staring at the ground.  
“What is this, cadets?” he asked, pointing to the floor. “This floor is dirty. Fix it.”  
Ruby checked the floor he pointed at. They had to have cleaned it twice over. How was it dirty? The sergeant kept moving, checking both rooms, opening drawers, and eyeballing uniforms and hats before moving into the common area again.  
“All of your floors are dirty, cadets,” he said. “I'll be back in 15 minutes. You better have it clean by then.”

Immediately, Ruby, Weiss, Yang and Blake asked each other how it was possible their floors could have been dirty. The first sergeant hadn't said anything about it, and he had even passed them! Who was this other one? Regardless, they once again jumped into action, furiously cleaning the floors, again, as fast as they could while still making sure it was actually clean. Once done, they anxiously awaited the sergeant's return.

Like prescribed, he came back fifteen minutes later, again inspecting their floors, their uniforms, and dressers. Seemingly satisfied this time, he gave them a pass, saying he was glad they had followed his instructions. This seemed to have been the official word, and they were called outside their room to help clean their floor of the barracks, taking out trash, sweeping floors, and mopping up where they could.

Formation was called just before dinner, where First Sergeant Geary had told them that, as she had requested, Bravo passed their room inspections with flying colors. In honor of their excellence, they, along with Echo Company would be heading to dinner first, and would not have any further requirements from the cadre for the day.

Dinner was a smorgasbord of all kinds of foods, both hot, cold, meat, vegetarian, desserts, entrees, main courses. Comfort foods were the primary fare, well-deserved after the hell they had to endure over the past week, and especially after two days of MREs. Now that they were officially part of the Lighthouse Brigade, gone were the cups of prescribed sports drinks that contained the company colors, the restrictions on seating and talking were lifted, and nobody was ordered to do anything other than eat and enjoy the rest of the weekend. Tomorrow, they would take another tour of campus to find buildings and specific classrooms if necessary, but other than that? They had all the time in the world to meet the rest of their company and get to know each other.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day was as had been described to them. Each cadet had been told at morning formation that if they wanted to find classrooms and buildings, to form up outside the barracks at 1000 hours, where sergeants would be waiting to take them around campus and help them. By this point, each cadet had their class schedules, something that had been printed out long before they had arrived at Beacon but kept in reserve for this day.

Ruby, Weiss, Yang and Blake each headed out as one, waiting for Sergeant Daichi to begin their tour. All four of them had roughly similar class schedules, with differences relating to what they had done (or not done) in high school or for extra credit. The cadre had decided to have multiple squads follow the sergeants around, keeping both Sergeant Daichi and Sergeant Alistair on hand to keep them on track, and possibly prevent any shenanigans or unnaturally relaxed cadets. It wasn't long, then, before Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren and Valkyrie joined them, at which point they set off.

Their first stop was the MLI, where they were shown the room where Colonel Port's class on military science was to take place. Ruby would have him for this year, and the next year, probably the entire time she was there as long as military science was a required course. Ruby didn't know what all could be learned with four years worth of military science, but reasoned they wouldn't force people to take it if there wasn't a purpose to it.

Further walks took them to Murphy Hall, where Major Oobleck's military history was taught, alongside a general history of the world from him. Outside the hall, Sergeant Alistair looked over Jaune curiously for a few moments.  
“Arc,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. “Did you shave today?”  
“Oh,” Jaune said, patting his face. “Uh. No, I didn't, Sergeant. I'll shave when I return to the barracks.”  
“Don't even bother,” Sergeant Alistair said. “It's too late now. You had time before, should have done it then.”  
“Yes, Sergeant,” Jaune said. Even if he didn't make it clear in his voice, Ruby could tell he was feeling a little deflated by that.

Another short walk later, and they arrived at Perry Hall, where all other general classes such as the maths, the sciences, and psychology and physics were taught. Not that the latter two were on Ruby's schedule this year – Beacon had deemed that she still needed some remedial math courses, and a biology and chemistry lab took up the other hours she had for this semester. No English for Ruby yet, at least not this semester. Maybe the next one.

With all questions answered and all classrooms visited and known to the cadets, they returned to the barracks, free to do whatever they wished that was within regulations until 1700 hours, where they were to appear outside the MLI. There, they would repeat the Cadet Code of Honor, a formality, but an important one nonetheless.

Their words at the MLI were probably not the first time the statues of Beacon had heard them, nor were they likely to be the last. Each company was filtered in one by one for the ceremony, to hear each of them in unison repeat their sacred oath.

_“Cadets are persons of integrity: They stand for that which is right. They tell the truth and ensure that the full truth is known. They do not lie._

_They embrace fairness in all actions. They ensure that work submitted as their own is their own, and that assistance received from any source is authorized and properly documented. They do not cheat._

_They respect the property of others and ensure that others are able to benefit from the use of their own property. They do not steal._

_A Cadet avoids these evils, nor will he or she tolerate those who partake in them. A Cadet upholds these, and all other morals which guide them, to the best of their ability.”_

Once their recitation was complete, each company was released to dinner, and from there, the day ended without much else in the way of fanfare. A further announcement came at evening formation – not this week, but next week, there would be a company-wide PT test on Saturday. The companies would be rated depending on how many cadets passed or failed the test, with those failing being sent to remedial PT training early in the morning each day.


	9. Jaundice, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaune struggles with whether or not this is the life he truly wants to live.

Pyrrha noticed that Jaune was... _different_ ever since they finished the Black Mountain Run. Their first weekend in barracks had gone relatively smoothly for them, but the start of classes seemed to have made him depressed. More often than not, Pyrrha returned to their room at the end of the day to find him staring at the ceiling, or out the window as if in a trance. This wasn't the same man she knew three days ago.

Still, their first PT test was coming up. Either they would pass, and have nothing further to do with it, or they would have to do remedial training to bring them up to Beacon standards. Pyrrha knew as well as anyone Jaune was not ready for the test, and there was virtually no way he could pass unless the sergeants happened to be asleep.

Usually, Pyrrha would do everything she could to pass on what she knew to him, to prepare him in at least some fashion before the company-wide test. It was slow going. Jaune gave up easily, and despite Pyrrha managing to unlock an unknown motivator for him, the words “I can't” came out of his mouth more often than “I can”. It was truly depressing, for her, and for Ren and Nora.

Like usual, Pyrrha walked into her room, where Jaune sat on his side of the room on a chair, deep in thought. She placed her backpack next to her desk, intent on studying after helping Jaune with his pushup technique.  
“Hey, Jaune,” she said. “Ready to train today?”  
He sighed heavily, muttering, “It's no use.”  
“What is?” Pyrrha asked.  
“All of this. Me being here. I'm going to go talk to Chief Goodwitch tomorrow.”  
Pyrrha drew a sharp breath. One didn't simply go to Chief Goodwitch for no reason.  
“Talk to her about what?” Pyrrha asked, unsure if she really wanted the answer.  
“I'm going to withdraw tomorrow.”

Pyrrha's eyes grew wide, and her breathing stopped for a split second. Was he serious? The hollow gaze in his eyes as he looked up at her told Pyrrha yes. Within seconds, even that faded away as he looked back down, almost as if he knew what he was saying and wanted to avoid facing it. Pyrrha slowly inched out of the room, heading into Ren and Nora's dorm. Their faces were filled with concern – they had heard everything.

“Is he serious?” Nora asked, worried.  
“I think so,” Pyrrha said, her voice low.  
“Let me go talk to him,” Ren said, moving past her to head to the other room.  
Nora and Pyrrha followed, where Jaune still sat in his chair. Ren walked into the room, leaning against Pyrrha's desk to face Jaune, who looked up at him to acknowledge his presence.

“So, I hear you're thinking of leaving,” Ren said, nonchalant.  
“Yeah.”  
“Would it help you to know that I believe in you?”  
“I suppose,” Jaune said, shrugging.  
“Because I do. I haven't met anyone as strong as you, Jaune. You faced overwhelming odds coming here. You could have quit at any time, but you didn't. Even when your legs refused to carry you up that mountain, you persevered anyway. Forget about physical strength, Jaune, that's _true_ strength.”

Jaune sighed again, his face still indifferent to anything Ren had said thus far.  
“That's very kind of you,” he finally said. “But I've made up my mind. I'm leaving tomorrow.”  
“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, stepping closer to him. “I don't think you've thought this through.”  
“You don't get it,” Jaune said, shaking his head. “I'm not supposed to be here.”  
“What do you mean?” Pyrrha asked, wary.  
“I mean, I wasn't the first choice.”

Pyrrha paused, unsure what this really meant. Ren and Nora likewise shrugged, neither having a clue what Jaune was implying. Finally, Pyrrha asked him to clarify this, because it clearly was not making sense to them.  
“You should have a different squadmate,” he said. “Someone who's actually prepared for all this. My governor had to recommend either myself or one of my friends to come here, and he picked them, but he got cold feet, and convinced the governor to let me come in his place.”

“I didn't even know that he had done it until I got a call, telling me that I was heading for Beacon. I had given up on earning my commission, so I stopped training when he was picked over me. I mean, look at me Pyrrha, I'm out of shape, I don't know anything, I'm constantly fucking up – “  
“They wouldn't have sent you here if they didn't think you were ready,” Pyrrha reassured him. “Nobody wants to see you fail, Jaune. That's not why we're here.”  
“I haven't done anything other than hold this company back since I got here,” Jaune said, regretful. “You'd all be better off without me.”  
“Don't say that,” Pyrrha replied, “You're our _friend_ , Jaune. Our _squadmate_. I'd go to battle with you any day.”  
Jaune sighed heavily. “I appreciate it, Pyrrha,” he said. “I wish I could say you've made me change my mind. You all deserve better than me.”

Jaune's tone and general closed-off body language told Pyrrha he wouldn't listen to any arguments that tried to convince him otherwise. This sealed it, Pyrrha thought. Jaune was leaving them, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She thought back to all the times she had helped him during Induction Week; from pouring water over his eyes to get him to see, standing by his side during the Black Mountain Run, to spending the little free time she had after each day, as exhausted as the rest of them, to try and teach Jaune what he hadn't learned.

Pyrrha had even been given the burden of being responsible for Jaune's continued performance, an assignment levied upon her by Sergeant Adel after a particularly brutal punishment session. The same one Jaune had almost immediately dropped out of to try and quit, his fourth time that week. Each time Jaune had gone to the sergeants to quit, he had come back with a renewed vigor that only lasted until the next physical punishment.

But Pyrrha didn't think he would be recovering from this. He looked like a broken shell of a man, completely devoid of direction and purpose. It broke her just as much as Jaune must have been broken, to the point she didn't want to be in the same room as him. Fighting back tears, she grabbed her backpack and left, heading to the common area in The Pit to get away.

She threw her backpack down on a nearby couch, and thankfully the common area was devoid of people, a perfect place for her to let emotions fly freely. Jaune had done everything right, gotten help from his friends, his squad, and even after trying to quit no less than six times in as many days, he had made up his mind to leave.

How did that reflect on Pyrrha? Sergeant Adel's words echoed in her head. _“You're responsible for making sure he does this right,”_  she had told her. Sergeant Adel had only been referring to pushups, but they both knew she was assigning much more than that to Pyrrha. How brutally devastating. Pyrrha's first task as a leader, and she had failed. It had taken her less than three days to fail. Would this go in the file the senior cadre kept on all cadets? Would this be an issue at the promotion board? She had no way of knowing.

But it was much more than herself and her chances at promotion she had failed. She had failed Jaune. Somehow, someway, she had failed to give him the proper motivation and tools to succeed. More than anything, that hurt the most. Despite Pyrrha's best efforts, Jaune had made up his mind to quit. How can you justify that? How could she dare to face Sergeant Adel tomorrow and tell her that she had failed not only herself, but her teammate?

As she silently wept to herself on the couch, curled up into a ball of inconsolable mass, Pyrrha couldn't help but think there was no way to. Whatever the consequences she faced, she would have to do so alone. After all, there's nobody to blame when you can only blame yourself.

 

* * *

 

  
Ironically, Jaune didn't _want_ to leave.

Everything in his life had been building to this moment, this week, where he would be accepted into the ranks of Beacon, and eventually the US Army. It was what he had dreamed of since he was 16, when he had heard stories from Grandpa about World War II and Korea. Jaune had visions of driving a tank across Europe, on a grand crusade to liberate the East from Communist oppression.

But today? Today he stood in front of Chief Goodwitch's office, dreading what he was about to do. He truly didn't want to leave, but he felt he _had_ to. He saw the signs early that, despite what others said, he didn't belong here. He was the heaviest cadet in the company, unable to recite any of the General Orders, barely knew how to march, and the entire first day as a Private he had alternated between saluting officers too early, too late, or most damningly, not at all.

Jaune never had any delusions this life would have been easy. But this? This had shown him he was woefully underprepared. Jaune had kicked himself every day of Induction Week for not listening to his father when he told him to go out and run, or push himself at the gym. How he wished he could turn back the clock and train harder and longer.

But the past was the past, and the present was here, with the future uncertain. He didn't know what to expect from Chief Goodwitch. He had heard that she was a Ranger. She was rumored to have killed no less than a dozen Viet Cong fighters with an entrenching tool, a spade that Nora claimed was barely effective at its actual job as a _shovel_ , much less a tool for killing people. Maybe under these rumors of blood rage, she was actually a nice person? Or maybe all the rumors were right – after all, if even the First Sergeant was visibly afraid of her, maybe they had more truth than he thought.

Jaune took a deep breath – his eighth since arriving in front of this door – and knocked lightly, whereupon a staff sergeant, and not the Chief like Jaune had expected, opened the door.  
“Yes, Private?” he asked, looking him up and down.  
“Uh, I would like to speak to Chief Goodwitch,” Jaune said.  
“Alright, come in and have a seat,” the sergeant said, opening the door further and motioning to a chair.  
Jaune took a seat in the chair, which faced the staff sergeant's desk. Jaune could do nothing more but wait as either Chief Goodwitch had time to see him or emerged from her office to personally call him in.

What felt like hours, but what was really ten minutes later, Chief Goodwitch emerged, spotting Jaune immediately and silently motioning for him to follow her into his office. Jaune did as asked, taking yet another seat when told to as Chief Goodwitch closed the door. She remained silent as she moved to sit across from him, folding her hands on the desk.  
“So, Private,” she said. “What brings you to my office today?”  
Jaune gulped, saying, “I would like to withdraw from the Corps of Cadets, Chief.”  
“Hm,” she said. Was that good or bad? “I see. We're barely a day past Induction Week, Private, are you sure about this?”  
“Yes, Chief,” Jaune said, faking confidence.  
“Hm.”

She unfolded her hands, taking pieces of paper out of a drawer.  
“Before I do anything else, I want to ask. Why?”  
“This isn't what I was expecting, Chief. I wasn't ready when I came here.”  
“And what _did_ you expect, Private?”  
Jaune paused. He had no way to answer this. He never had any preconceptions about Beacon other than knowing it was one of the nation's best military academies, and it produced some of the best officers the American military had seen. He knew nothing of how it would be. How could he? It wasn't like he could just come and visit, living thousands of miles away in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

“I...I don't know, Chief. I just know this isn't it,” Jaune finally said.  
“And what is it you expect to do when you've left Beacon behind?”  
“I don't know,” Jaune said, shrugging. “Find a job. Save up some money.”  
“You understand,” she said, “that by withdrawing, you cannot come back here for a year. Under no circumstances can you step back onto this campus.”  
“I understand.”  
Chief Goodwitch's face didn't betray any emotion or thoughts she may have had on Jaune's request. Instead, she simply nodded, and collected the papers she had pulled from her desk, handing one to Jaune.  
“Alright, if you're so intent on leaving Beacon,” she said, “then make sure to do everything on this list. I'd recommend you turn in your uniform first. The supply depot closes at 1600 hours.”

Jaune took the paper from Chief Goodwitch, looking over the requirements. It all looked fairly simple – withdraw from classes, turn in his uniform and all gear, turn in his room key, and remove his name from the company roll call. He thanked Chief Goodwitch for her time, promising to return once he had done everything the list asked, and left.

His first stop was his room, partially to get his uniform off, and partially to confirm to himself that, yes, he really was leaving Beacon. He sighed as he walked into his room, where he was alone. Pyrrha had probably left for another class, and he could only assume Ren and Nora were off doing something as well. Jaune hadn't seen them in the common area when he came back to barracks.

Jaune collapsed on the floor, overwhelmingly sick with anxiety, depression, and an intense melancholy all at once. Without even realizing it, he was now sobbing on the floor of his room, hardly able to breathe. Long, drawn-out sobs were the only noises he made as his face got redder and soaked in the tears. He must have spent at least half an hour on that floor, trying to convince himself he was actually doing the right thing.

Recovering from his pity party, Jaune slowly took his uniform off and changed into the same clothes he had worn during Induction Week. The uniform was then washed, and he took it to the supply depot. One thing off the list, three things left.

This had to be the right choice, he rationalized. Why would he be standing here outside the supply depot if he wasn't sure?


	10. Jaundice, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaune withdraws from the Corps.

Jaune walked Beacon's campus, conspicuous in his civilian clothing amongst the sea of uniformed personnel alongside him. Most ignored him, categorizing his lack of uniform as “not their problem.” Jaune just kept his head down, moving towards the central administration building to settle his classroom affairs and ensure he was properly withdrawn.

On the way there he had to pass by Murphy Hall, where Pyrrha just happened to be stepping out. She looked up, seeing him as she stepped off the stairs, and her normally happy face frowned. Jaune cursed his luck a thousand times over. Why her, why now?  
“Oh no,” Pyrrha said, cautiously approaching him. “You did it, didn't you?”  
Jaune couldn't bear to bring himself to speak, only nodding in response. Pyrrha's shoulders sank, and she stepped closer to him.  
“I wish I could have done more to help you, Jaune,” Pyrrha said, struggling to keep herself from crying.  
“I'm sorry, Pyrrha. This is the right choice for me.”  
“Jaune?”  
Both Jaune and Pyrrha turned to see Ruby, who also had just left Murphy Hall, and was looking at Jaune with mingled confusion and fear.  
“Why...why are you out of uniform, Jaune?” Ruby asked. “Did something happen?”

Jaune drew a sharp breath, searching for the words to say. After a long pause, he settled on the direct approach. “I'm withdrawing from the Corps, Ruby,” he told her.  
“You're what?” she said, her voice wavering. For the first time since he had met her, Ruby wasn't smiling.  
“I...I have to go,” Jaune said, desperate to find a way out of this awkward situation. Like a coward, Jaune simply left the two women standing there, confused and hurt as he headed off to finalize his withdrawal from Beacon. He didn’t dare look back, afraid that even a moment of weakness would persuade him that he was making a mistake.

Once again his walk was interrupted, this time mere feet from the admin building, where Sergeant Adel was crossing his path to head somewhere. He spotted her before she saw him, and hoped he would suddenly become invisible. No such luck today – she caught his gaze, and her face held a mix of confusion and anger as she approached him.

“Private Arc!” she shouted. “What are you doing out of uniform?!”  
“Sergeant,” he answered, switching to parade rest, “I'm withdrawing from the Corps!”  
Her eyebrows jumped up in surprise, and she briefly shook her head as if to clear her ears.  
“Say that again, Private,” she said menacingly. “I could have _sworn_ I just heard you say you were leaving.”  
Jaune pulled out the papers from Chief Goodwitch, and held them out for her to see.  
“Sergeant, I say again, I'm withdrawing from the Corps.”  
Sergeant Adel snatched the papers from his hand, reading them over with anger. As her eyes scrolled down the paper, her anger subsided, replaced by genuine concern and sadness.  
“I see. Private Arc, did something happen between you and another Cadet?”

Jaune furrowed his brow. What was she talking about?  
“I don't understand the question, Sergeant.”  
“I mean, are you leaving because of something myself, another sergeant, or someone in Bravo, did?”  
“Oh,” Jaune muttered, finally understanding her point. “No, Sergeant. Nobody is responsible for this, except me. I failed myself, Sergeant.”  
Sergeant Adel examined his face closely for several moments, trying to determine if he was lying or not. She sighed heavily, apparently deciding he was being truthful for now, and wished him good luck in his future as she handed back his papers.

Finally, he reached the admin building, pausing to take a seat on a nearby bench in the lobby to gather himself. He hadn't expected to run into Pyrrha and Ruby today. Neither did he expect to be so shaken by Ruby's reaction to his news. How could he face _anyone_ in Bravo after this, should he ever see them again? Jaune leaned back on the bench as much as it would allow him to, staring at the ceiling. So far, leaving was proving more difficult than surviving Induction Week.

“Ah, good afternoon, Private,” a familiar voice said.  
Jaune straightened up to see none other than Commandant Ozpin standing in front of him, his arms behind his back and a gentle smile on his face. For his part, Jaune immediately shot up out of the bench, his eyes wide in panic as he tried to remember if he had to salute or not, his arm rapidly swinging up and down like a yo-yo.  
“No, you don't have to salute,” the Commandant said. “What brings you here today?”  
“Oh, uh,” Jaune said. “I'm...I'm withdrawing from the Corps, sir.”  
“Hmm. So I heard. I had hoped those rumors were baseless, but I see they were quite true indeed.”  
“Y-yes, sir,” Jaune babbled. “I think it's the right choice.”

Ozpin tilted his head curiously, almost as if he were examining Jaune's very soul.  
“Interesting. Most cadets wait a little longer before they decide such a thing. What made you take this course of action?”  
“I'm not a good fit here, sir,” Jaune admitted, unable to conceal his own disappointment. “I didn't prepare myself before coming here, and I'm only holding myself and my company back.”  
“You completed the Black Mountain Run, did you not?” Commandant Ozpin asked.  
“I did, sir, but I didn't do it alone.”  
Confusion washed over Ozpin's face. “What does it matter if you couldn't run up an overenthusiastic hill by yourself?”  
Now it was Jaune's turn to be confused. “I...I don't think I understand, sir.”

The Commandant nodded, motioning for Jaune to follow him deeper into the building, presumably to his office.  
“Beacon is much more than a place for a potential officer to learn his craft, Private Arc. It is where friendships are made, alliances forged, and the true grit of a person is crafted. But, most importantly of all, Beacon is a place where _teams_ are created. Here, all cadets learn you cannot do anything alone, for such a soldier has no place in the military. The lone wolf is much more suited to unsavory work as private security, or heaven forbid, a mercenary.”

“Teamwork is essential, Private Arc, because without our teammates, our friends, we cannot grow as people, as officers. Did you know that your cadre specifically arranged your training squads?”  
“They did?” Jaune wasn't sure he could believe it. But then again...looking back, he could tell even before they had been organized into companies, the cadre had grouped them up in a specific way. It made sense, in retrospect.  
“Mhm,” the Commandant said, nodding. “Your First Sergeant made sure that your formations reflected the squads she wanted to see. It's all a test of teamwork. It's why we ask for essays, one on a subject you love the most, and another about yourself. It's why we ask for reference letters. It's why your governor chose you to come here.”

Jaune paused, slowly falling out of step with the Commandant, who took note almost immediately.  
“Of course,” Commandant Ozpin said, turning to face him, “that only matters if you were the first choice to begin with.”  
“So you know about Stephen, then.”  
“A fine man, and perhaps a fine soldier, had he not decided to give up. One can only speculate how his path here at Beacon would have gone. And, should you leave today, one can only speculate what _your_ path would be.”  
Jaune sighed. “I'm not sure what more proof you need that I don't belong here, sir. I've never been anybody's first choice.”

“Which is precisely why I think you're making a mistake, Private.”  
“My apologies, sir? I don't believe I hear-”  
“You heard me fine, Private. Having the recommendation of a governor does not guarantee you to a slot here at Beacon. I could have looked over all the material you sent me, the word from your governor, and your academic history and rejected you out of hand. However, each and every cadet I have accepted to Beacon during my tenure has met with success, if not in the military, than in some other realm of their life.”

Jaune stood staring at the Commandant, unsure how to react. He knew having the governor's word alone wasn't a guarantee, but...what had the Commandant seen from him that could have given him cause to accept Jaune's entry into Beacon? It didn't make sense to him.  
“You stand at a crossroads, Private,” Ozpin said, breaking Jaune out of the ruminations of his mind. “You can either quit, with as valid a reason as any other cadet has had, or you can choose to persevere, and stay even when every fiber of your being is crying out against you. The choice you make right here, today, will define the man you will be for the rest of your life.”

Without waiting for Jaune to even consider either option, Commandant Ozpin bid Jaune farewell, heading to his office. Jaune was now suddenly aware that the Commandant had left him standing outside the admissions center. He could either walk in right now and drop his classes, or turn back and try to undo the damage he had done and recover his uniform and gear before the supply depot closed.

He looked into the offices, seeing a collection of people mostly unaware of his presence, working through their day as any other. Behind him, the path back to the supply depot, where he would again be harassed by passing sergeants demanding to know why he was out of uniform. Perhaps he would even pass by those from Bravo, wondering why he was leaving them. Jaune wasn't sure any answer would satisfy the curious. He wasn't sure if he would have accepted it himself, if he were to have someone tell him.

Decisions, decisions. Jaune took a deep breath, and stepped into the offices, heading right to the front desk where a kindly older woman sat behind a desk, waiting with a smile.  
“Hello, Cadet,” she said, clearly a part of the campus' civilian faculty. “How can I help you today?”  
“I need to withdraw from my classes,” he said flatly.  
“Alright. Name, please?”  
“Jaune Arc.”  
She pulled out a folder and rifled through it, extracting a file from it and examining it closely. She rattled off the classes he had signed up for, and reiterating to him that he would have to pay for the tuition costs plus an additional fee for withdrawing. Jaune understood.  
“I'll alert the coordinator and let him know. You're all set, Cadet. Good luck out there.”  
“Thank you, ma'am,” Jaune said, leaving the offices to head back to barracks. Time to get his room key and remove his name from the company roll call.

Thankfully, he had walked back to the barracks when most were in class, and aside from a few strange looks from other privates, he received no unwanted attention on his path there. The cadets in the barracks on desk duty didn't even bother to look up at him as he entered, absorbed in homework and assigned reading. First Sergeant Geary was scheduled to be in her office at this time, and that was where Jaune was heading first.

He knocked on the door, and she called for him to enter. As he did so, slowly closing the door behind him, Jaune heard a barely-whispered “what the fuck?” come from the First Sergeant's mouth. He stood in front of the door, waiting for her to tell him to do something, but he saw that she simply stared at him, mouth agape.  
“Private Arc,” she finally said after finding her voice, “what in the hell are you doing out of uniform?”  
“I'm withdrawing from the Corps, First Sergeant.”  
“Coco was right then. Great.”  
“Uh, not to intrude, First Sergeant,” Jaune said, “but I do need to get my name off the company roll call list.”  
She sighed, shaking her head. “Before I do this, Arc, I want to ask you. Are you sure about this?”

Jaune nodded solemnly. “A lot of people have asked me that today, First Sergeant. I'm sure.”  
First Sergeant Geary looked back at him with intense eyes, far more intense than she had ever been before.  
“You can come back, you know,” she said, “take a year off, train, get ready. Reapply and be right back here.”  
“Thank you, First Sergeant, but right now, I just need to get out of here.”  
“Alright then.” She struck his name off the company roll call, and stood up, giving her hand to shake. Jaune shook her hand, and she gripped his tightly as she again started at him intensely. “I really hope you're at peace with the choice you made here, Arc.”  
“I am, First Sergeant,” Jaune said, trying to match her strength but rapidly failing.  
“Do you need to do anything else before you're released from here, Arc?”  
“I need to return my room key,” he said.  
“Alright. Sergeant Scarlatina will escort you back to the MLI. Wait in your room for her.”

Jaune nodded, and once he was released from First Sergeant Geary's death grip, he headed to his room, exceedingly empty given the time of day. Ten minutes later, a knock came at the door, where Sergeant Scarlatina's familiar voice asked for him. Jaune grabbed his key, and met her outside the door. She led him outside, and together they walked to the MLI.

Just before they walked into it, she had him stop. She stepped in front of him, folding her arms like a disappointed mother.  
“You know,” she said, “I was like you. The weakest, most out of shape cadet in the entire company.”  
“You were?”  
“I got through Induction Week and every challenge that came after because I didn't want to be known as that. I did what you're doing now, I tried to quit. I tried to quit every chance I got, but none of the sergeants let me. Not even Coco let me, and she wasn't even a sergeant then.”  
“I'm not cut out for this, though,” Jaune said. “I can't survive here.”  
“And you think a tiny white girl from London thought _she_ could?”

“All due respect, Sergeant,” Jaune replied, “I'm not strong enough.”  
“I have a secret for you, Arc. Do you want to hear it?”  
Jaune shrugged. What else could he hear today?  
“There is not a single cadet, sergeant, or officer who cares if you're strong, and if they do, they're _wrong._ Not everyone can be Captain America, Arc. You can make up for your weaknesses by being the strongest possible elsewhere. I barely pass company and personal PT tests, but I compensate by knowing as much as I can about weapons and tactics. You can blaze your own path for success here, Arc.”

“I don't want to hold anyone back, though,” Jaune countered, though even he could tell this was a weak excuse.  
“You'll only hold the company back if you continually fail to perform. From what I've seen, Arc, you step up to the plate when given the chance. I think with a little help from your friends and a bit more time here, you'll be just fine.”  
Jaune looked at his watch. The supply depot was closing soon. Would he have time to retrieve his uniform and talk to Chief Goodwitch? Maybe quitting was a bad idea.  
“You'll have time,” Sergeant Scarlatina said, almost as if she was reading his mind. “I just need to know, Arc. Are you quitting?”

Jaune swallowed hard, then returned Scarlatina's gaze with one of his own, his chest swelling with determination.  
“No. I'm not quitting.”  
She smiled, nodding and leading him into the MLI to Chief Goodwitch's office.

Chief Goodwitch informed Jaune that Commandant Ozpin had personally intervened on his behalf, ordering the supply depot to hold his uniform until further notice, preventing the admissions coordinator from dropping him from classes, and replacing the company roll call sheet to reflect that Jaune would not be leaving. His uniform and gear were given back to him, almost as if he had never given them away, and Sergeant Scarlatina helped him move some of his gear back to his room.

“I want you to promise me something, Arc.”  
She stopped them again, drilling holes into Jaune.  
“No more taking the easy way out,” she said. “No more quitting. You owe it to yourself now. I don't want to hear of you ever quitting again, do you understand me?”  
“Yes, Sergeant,” Jaune said. “I promise. No more quitting.”  
She smiled again, nodding. Exactly what she wanted to hear.


	11. August, 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes begin for the cadets. Blake and Weiss get the word on their transfer requests.

Tuesday was the first day Ruby, and by extension Yang, Weiss, Blake, Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora too, had their Military Science 101 class, taught by none other than Colonel Port. Ruby and her friends hung around outside the room, waiting for Colonel Port to unlock the door and allow them in. It was still early; the class wasn't scheduled to start until 9 AM, but the cadets had arrived there at 8:45. Ruby didn't recognize many faces from Bravo among the crowd of people waiting for class. Maybe they had a different slot. She honestly wasn't sure.

A few minutes later, the door unlocked, and the cadets began to filter into the lecture hall. Ruby recognized the room – this was where they had disassembled the M60 during Induction Week. Instantly, Ruby was beginning to get excited. Maybe they'd disassemble some weapons today? Or go over tactics? She was already looking forward to learning everything she could about the US Army's weapons and how to use them.

Chatter between cadets calmed down as Colonel Port looked among them, assembling notes and setting up a projector for his lecture. Even through his thick snow-white eyebrows, Ruby could tell he was carefully evaluating each and every student before him, probably trying to sort out troublemakers, slackers, and unmotivated cadets from good, hardworking ones like herself. Though, his huge mustache was odd. Ruby didn't think that was within regulations, but reasoned that since he was faculty, and an officer at that, he could probably do what he wanted.

The clock slowly ticked down to 9:15 as Colonel Port took roll call, ensuring he could not only put a face to each cadet he had, but that everyone was here. This done, he nodded and stood to address the room, pacing back and forth as he spoke.

“Good morning, cadets,” he said. “And welcome to Military Science 101, I am Colonel Peter Port. I have been a commissioned officer of the United States Army since 1951, where I was commissioned as First Lieutenant after graduating from Beacon much like I hope all of you will some day. I fought in Korea and most recently, Viet Nam, as an infantry officer, artilleryman, and combat engineer.”

He turned on the projector and turned their attention to the first slide, which outlined what he expected of them each day. Three cadets, volunteers of course, were to stand up in front of the class, and each one would tell the class of one of three things: the day's weather report, a news item, or a historical event. His reasons for these were that for an officer, knowing the weather could dictate their plans. Keeping up on current events would prevent an officer from offending local civilians, or being out of the loop on an important event elsewhere in the world. Historical events, meanwhile, were to be kept in mind to remind them why they were here. Not only to learn, but each cadet also was here to avoid making the mistakes of past leaders, whether they had come from Beacon or elsewhere.

“Now,” Colonel Port said, having explained what he expected, “let us move on to what we will be actually _learning_ each day in my class.”  
Ruby leaned forward, pencil at the ready to take notes. She was already on the edge of her seat with excitement. Colonel Port passed to the next slide, so he could lecture them on…

Personal finance.

_Wait, what?_

Ruby wasn't sure if she was actually hearing anything Colonel Port was saying, since she was so flabbergasted by the slide she was no longer paying attention. She wrestled in her mind about why on earth Beacon would be giving them lessons on _personal finance in military science 101._ What in the hell did personal finance have to do with being an officer?

Alright, maybe Ruby was being too harsh. This was the first class, after all. Maybe it wouldn't all be like this, maybe she was being too quick to judge. Though...she was quickly losing focus as Colonel Port droned on and on about how proper financial planning would prevent the downfall of young officers like themselves, lest they fail to learn proper budgeting and run afoul of the US Army's brigade of accountants.

There was really only so much of it one could take, Ruby thought. She thought this class would be all about how to conduct a war, not how to balance a checkbook. She took as many notes as she could, waiting for this excruciating lecture to end. Maybe, just maybe, she could get out of this classroom with a little bit of her sanity left.

At least, that's what she thought until Port began speaking about his time in Korea and Vietnam. He relayed stories that to her seemed fantastical, almost imaginary. Had she not heard scattered stories from her own dad about war in Vietnam, she would have thought Port was making up every single encounter he had with the Vietnamese.

“...and anyway, had it not been for the timely intervention of the Army Air Corps, I wouldn't be here teaching you!”  
The bell rung. Finally, relief!  
“It appears that's all the time we have today. Remember, next class, I need three volunteers to give me the weather, a current event, and a historical anecdote!”  
Soon, the cadets began packing their bags and putting away notebooks and pencils. A few others approached Colonel Port to ask him questions. Checking to see that they were all ready, Ruby and her squad headed outside the MLI, to see...rain.

While they had been in the classroom, the once-sunny day had now become dreary. It wasn't even 11 yet, and already the day was gloomy and dark. Weiss sighed, pulling up her collar and heading out into the rain, moving quickly to avoid getting too wet. Shrugging, Yang did the same, and soon after Blake followed. With little other choice, Ruby too pushed into the rain, heading to her next class.

 

* * *

 

  
It didn't strike Ruby until just recently how varied her group of friends was. Just within her squad, she had Weiss from West Germany and Blake from Hawaii, with her and Yang the only ones from California. Jaune came from New Orleans, Pyrrha from New York, and Nora and Ren hailed from somewhere in Wisconsin. All she needed now was somebody from the Deep South to match all four corners of the United States.

Of course, this diversity did not come without a price. The tension between Blake and Weiss was still palpable, even if it had cooled considerably since Blake helped Weiss on the Black Mountain Run. They had stuck to their agreement to stay out of each other's way as much as possible, only tolerating each other as long as they had classes and formations each day and night.

It wasn't a surprise to Ruby, then, that both wanted to settle the issue of their transfers immediately after evening formation. They had put their requests in almost at the same time, competing to be the first to formally ask. So far, there hadn't been a word from the sergeants about it. Their squad leader, Sergeant Coco Adel, had told them she would kick it up to the First Sergeant, and from there, it was on her.

Weiss and Blake approached her at the same time, waiting for her to finish speaking to Lieutenant Horowitz. Ruby stood by, not wanting to abandon her friends when they needed her most. After all, even if they didn't like each other, she was still going to be sad to see either of them go. She also secretly hoped they would miss each other, most of all.

“Oh, it's you two,” First Sergeant Geary said, turning to see them standing there. “What do you need?”  
“It's about my transfer, First Sergeant,” Blake said.  
“And mine as well,” Weiss added.  
The First Sergeant looked over the two, and sighed heavily. “Alright, then,” she said, “may as well settle this now. You two asked for transfers owing to personal differences, is that right?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant,” they replied.  
“From what I saw, you two worked well together during Induction Week. I believe I saw you helping Private Schnee during Black Mountain, is that right, Belladonna?”

Blake stiffened up. “Yes, First Sergeant.”  
“Then what's the personal differences that makes you both want a transfer?”  
“I can't say, First Sergeant. Not here.”  
“I don't feel comfortable discussing it in front of Belladonna, First Sergeant.”  
First Sergeant Geary looked at them in disbelief, unsure whether this was real or not.  
“Okay. I'm denying your transfer request, Private Schnee.”  
“What?”  
“And I'm denying your transfer request, Private Belladonna.”  
“Huh?”

“Look, Privates,” the First Sergeant said, “nobody ever gets along the first time they meet each other. I haven't seen anything to indicate I need to separate you two, and if you can't tell me what it is that you _have_ to be apart, I'm not approving it.”  
“Understood, First Sergeant,” Blake said.  
“Understood,” Weiss repeated.  
“Now, if something more serious comes up that you _do_ want to tell me about, then by all means, I'll approve a transfer. I'm not going to entertain such a request again until another month, is that understood?”  
“Yes, First Sergeant,” they said.

Blake and Weiss were dismissed. Blake didn't even look at Ruby, passing by her to seek out solitude in the short time she would have until they had to be back in their rooms. Weiss, meanwhile, stood defeated as the First Sergeant walked away, having duties to fulfill.  
“Uh, Weiss?” Ruby asked. “Are you alright?”  
“Not really, Ruby,” she answered, shaking her head.  
She could tell Weiss needed to be away from the rest of the company, and silently led her back to their dorm. Weiss got on her bed, staring at the ceiling as Ruby closed the door. Being closed off from the world would help, if only a little. Since her friend was making it clear she didn't want to talk, Ruby decided to start studying. May as well get something done while she waited.

“I don't get it,” Weiss finally said after half an hour. “Why didn't she let one of us transfer out?”  
“Well, she _did_ say she thought you and Blake worked well together.”  
“We _didn't._ We barely even talked to each other.”  
“What do you want me to say, Weiss?” Ruby asked, turning to face her. “That I hope one of my friends would transfer to another company?”  
Weiss suddenly sat up in her bed, looking at Ruby with clear emotion on her face, but what emotion that was, Ruby didn't know.  
“You...you think of me as a friend?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Ruby said, shrugging her shoulders. “We've been through a lot together, Weiss. I don't care what your family might or might not have done, because you're not just a name, you're my squadmate, my friend, and someone I'd follow into battle any day.”  
Weiss visibly began to tear up, trying vainly to dry her eyes with her hand. “That's very kind, Ruby. Thank you.”  
“Not a problem,” Ruby said, smiling. “We're the best squad in Bravo, I just know it. Call it a good feeling.”  
Weiss nodded, and got off her bed to go to her desk, pulling out books from the day's classes. Time for them both to study, until lights out.

 

* * *

 

  
Blake enjoyed the far too short time she had to herself after evening formation before their curfew was enforced. How she lamented that she had to give up so much to be here, so many freedoms stripped away all in the name of military discipline and bearing. At times, it made her think of leaving. Each time she did, though, she remembered that this wasn't what _ojiisan_ would have wanted. If he could see her now, in this uniform? He'd probably be the proudest he'd been since he got out of the camps.

But, he couldn't, and she knew it. Blake wasn't sure he even recognized her anymore. It was only about six back home – maybe if she was quick, she could call the house, maybe get an update. That'd be good. Blake hadn't called home in a few days. It would be nice to hear from Mom and Dad again.

And so Blake made a quick stop at the row of telephones in the barracks, calling for home. As expected, it rang a few times until Mom answered. Not unusual. Mom was usually always at home, ready to answer any call.  
“Hello?”  
“Hey, Mom,” Blake said, immediately relieved.  
“Blake! Honey, how are you? Isn't it late there?”  
“A little – but it's okay. Everything's okay. I just wanted to say hi before I went to bed.”  
“Well, how is it there? Is it what you expected?”

Blake paused, sighing. So far, it wasn't. The same squad as a Nazi's daughter, a denied transfer to get away from her, and professors that were more interested in regaling their class with exaggerated valor over actually teaching them. It was more like a theatrical production than a senior military academy, but she couldn't admit that to Mom.  
“Yeah,” she blatantly lied, “it's alright. We have our PT test next week.”  
“You'll do fine, Blake,” Mom said. “You always do.”  
“Thanks, Mom.” She paused again. Time to ask the tough question. “How's _ojiisan_ doing? Can I talk to him?”

Now it was Mom's turn to be apprehensive. She sighed pensively. What was going on on the other end of the line?  
“He's already asleep, but I'll let him know you wanted to talk.”  
“Mom,” Blake said, interrupting. “I mean is he getting worse? Better? I don't know when I'll have a chance to be back home.”  
Mom sighed again. Oh no.  
“We really don't know, honey. He has his good and bad days. It's been a good week for him so far. He misses you a lot.”  
Blake closed her eyes, a pointless attempt to stop herself from crying. She just had to poke, didn't she? Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe she was just overreacting.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Mom. I have to go now, it's almost curfew. I'll talk to you later, okay?”  
“Alright, Blake. Be safe out there. We love you.”  
“Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.”  
They exchanged final goodbyes, and Blake hung up the phone, with a solid click the only noise in the area. She slowly headed back to her room, keeping her head low as she wrestled with the idea that, perhaps sooner than she would have wanted, her beloved ojiisan would be gone, and she wouldn't be there to say goodbye.

Blake walked into her room, Yang already hard at work studying.  
“Hey, Blake,” Yang greeted, nodding in acknowledgement.  
“Hey,” Blake said, a bit more quietly than normal. Yang noticed – dammit. She didn't want to talk to Yang right now.  
“You, uh, you alright there?”  
Blake sighed, hoping her attitude wouldn't provoke Yang to investigate more.  
“I don't want to talk about it.”

Yang nodded, and returned to her study. That...was surprisingly easy. Now if only others could have that same respect, her time here would be golden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the days and months will blend together as our characters fall into a routine, I'm replacing specific date references by just compacting all events into a single chapter and generalizing it in the entire month.
> 
> "Ojiisan" is also Japanese for "grandfather" for those who didn't look it up already.


	12. September, 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cadets face the first company-wide PT test. Yang develops a crush. A "fun day" involving a helicopter reminds Ruby of her mom.

“..dreadful, truly dreadful, was the Ottoman Empire's campaign against the Russian Empire in the winter of 1914. Who can guess why? Anyone?”  
Major Oobleck scanned the room, pointing to someone behind Ruby. “What about you, Winchester? Do you have any ideas?”  
Cardin Winchester, someone from Alpha. Ruby had met him a few times, none of their interactions pleasant. She had seen him hanging around with his squad, or she assumed it was his squad, relentlessly taunting anyone nearby. At least, until sergeants came around – then they were model soldiers.  
“Well, it's a lot easier to teach a Russian than a Muslim, I reckon.”  
“Do I detect a bias in your answer, Private? Both the Russian and Ottoman armies were well-trained. Private Arc, what about you?”

Jaune looked up, not expecting to be called on.  
“Uh...” He looked around, trying to gain insight until he saw Pyrrha, rubbing her shoulders obviously in an attempt to give him a clue. “Poor physical fitness?”  
“No, Private Arc,” Major Oobleck said, shaking his head. “The Ottoman Empire did not properly outfit their forces with enough winter gear. They expected a quick campaign, for the Muslims of the Caucasus to rise up in mass rebellion against the Russians. Neither of these things happened, though there was hope for a short while.”

Major Oobleck checked his watch, and then began to head back to his desk. “That appears to be all the time we have for today, sadly. Privates Arc, Winchester, please see me when you're done packing your things.”  
Ruby glanced over at Jaune, who looked somewhere between surprised and worried. This was already a tough week for them all, with their PT test coming up on Friday and getting into the routine of classes and formations. But, alas, she had no time to speculate. She only had time for classwork, and attending company events.

 

* * *

 

  
“GET LOWER!”  
Every bone, muscle, joint, and point in Jaune's body hurt, or was quickly on its way. The sergeant screaming in his ear didn't help any. It was far too early to be up and about doing exercises, Jaune thought. Why did they have to do the PT test at 6 in the morning? Why not wait until, say, 9 or something?

But, despite the intense hatred he had for ever making the dumbest decision of his life, here he was. He had gotten up at 6 AM anyway, and headed to the drill field to join countless others in running laps, doing pushups, and the other assorted exercises the demonic sergeants thought up. He thought it took a special kind of person to be a sergeant during the PT tests, the kind of person that often wound up in papers – and not for good reasons – and perhaps mixed with just a little bit of sadism.

“Your pushups don't count if you don't go low enough, Private!”  
How could he possibly get any lower? If he got closer to the ground, he'd practically be grazing like a cow. Still, Jaune did what he could to satisfy the sergeant's nigh-impossible demands. It was endless. Do pushups, run two miles, do sit-ups until you wanted to puke. At least, he felt it was endless. In reality, the physical fitness test only lasted a few hours.

Finally, the hellish torture he was undergoing ended, though with a less than positive outcome for Jaune. He had just barely missed the mark, scoring a total of 171 points. He needed 180 to avoid joining the “Fat Kid Club”, or those who needed to undergo more remedial training to pass the next PT test. Each cadet who had failed the company-wide PT test was told to report each morning for the next month, where after that month they'd take another PT test. Dire consequences were to befall those who managed to fail that second test.

Jaune later found out he was one of four of Bravo to fail the PT test. Not one of the other failures he knew enough to consider them friends. Therefore, he had to suffer alone, and in silence. Such was his life now.

 

* * *

 

  
Yang didn't think she'd find much prospects for dating at Beacon. The regulations specifically prohibited her from involving herself with the upperclassmen in her company, as well as most public displays of affection. Even celebratory drinks at the bar were out of the question, ignoring whether or not those involved were able to legally drink. Hell, just _being_ at the bar itself, not drinking, was grounds for a possible demerit.

It was truly depressing. How was Yang supposed to meet any _women_ if she couldn't go to where they were? It wasn't like she had time to go to local events, either. Curfew forced her in barracks no later than eight o' clock each night, scarcely the attractive quality most her age looked for.

Yang had given up hope of finding even a fling nearly two and a half weeks into the month, lamenting how easy it was for her straight friends to start dating around.

At least, until she saw _her_ sitting there.

She was just like her, another cadet looking for something. Whether it was romance, Yang didn't know yet, but that didn't matter much to her. She had amazing brunette hair that glistened in the sunshine, cut short to be within regs. Her cute round face just begged to be covered with kisses, perfectly complimenting her little blue eyes.

There was just one problem. She was a sergeant.

Yang had talked to her a few times between classes when she had seen her, and somehow had placed into the same English class with her. Short conversations aside, Yang had managed to learn Sergeant Raines was originally from Latvia, but had been adopted by American parents who now lived in Georgia. She was immensely proud of her Latvian heritage, doubly so of her American citizenship, and knew no better way to honor both than by serving the United States Armed Forces.

She planned to join the artillery, or maybe military police. Not quite decided yet, she told Yang, but she'd know soon. The sergeant was already fluent in Russian, a bonus for her to be sure, and giving Yang more than enough reasons to want to take up Russian next semester. Doubly so when Sergeant Raines told her she was a tutor for the course. The fact she was one of many didn't deter Yang from daydreaming about spending long nights distracting herself from Russian to study _her._

And yet, she was still a sergeant.

But she was a sergeant for Echo Company, and not Bravo. Yang read, reread, and had Blake read the regulations a thousand times. They didn't say anything about dating superiors from _other_ companies, only that dating superiors within your _own_ company was off-limits.

However, Yang couldn't possibly get a read on her. Yang felt like every time she was making progress, Raines mentioned something that took her two steps back, or lingered a while longer over a male cadet. But then Raines would do things that made Yang question that, like a touch that lasted a bit long. Or a brush on her shoulder. A compliment where one wasn't needed.

It was one of many such days that Yang was ignoring her studies, wistfully staring at the wall and complaining to Blake.  
“I dunno,” Yang longingly said, “she just doesn't seem interested.”  
“Have you tried talking to her?” Blake asked, not even looking up from her book.  
Yang was silent, for perhaps entirely too long, before blurting out, “Do what?”  
_“Talking,_ Yang,” Blake said, now giving her full attention. “You know, like what we're doing now?”

Yang sheepishly grinned, shrugging. Blake sighed, shaking her head as she walked over to Yang.  
“Okay, listen, you idiot,” Blake said, “do you really expect her to pick up on all these silly subtle hints you keep dropping? How do you know she doesn't already _have_ someone?”  
“She would have told me.”  
“Are you _sure?”_

Yang paused. Come to think of it, they had never talked about anything like that. She racked her brain trying to think back on their conversations, searching for any mention of a potential interest. A boyfriend, someone she was dating, _anyone_ , but it all came up empty. Had Yang really misread the signs so obviously?

“So, uh,” Yang said, looking at Blake. “How badly did I fuck up here?”  
“You literally haven't even told her anything.”  
_“But what if she knows, Blake?”_ Yang asked, eyes wide in fear.  
“Oh my god, Yang,” Blake said, putting a hand on her face, “for crying out loud, _she doesn't know anything because you haven't said anything_. For all she knows, you're just friends. What do you _think_ you should do now?”

The gears turned in Yang's head, trying to formulate a plan for when she saw Sergeant Raines next. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if visualizing every possible outcome in front of her.  
“I...should ask her out to dinner.”  
**_“NO!”_** Blake shouted, burying her head in her hands. “Yang. Are you actually kidding me right now?”  
Yang shrugged her shoulders again. What was so wrong with her approach? Blake's dumbfounded look told her there was probably a _lot_ wrong.  
“Yang, if some guy walked up to you, talked to you for a week, and asked you to dinner out of the blue, how would you feel?”

“I'm not into dudes, though,” Yang protested.  
“That's the _point,_ Yang. You can't assume anything, that's why I keep telling you to go and talk to her.”  
“Oh,” Yang said, defeated. “I don't know, what if it all goes wrong?”  
“Then at least you know,” Blake said, shrugging.  
Yang tapped her finger on her desk, almost machine-gun like. There really was no way around this, was there?  
“Alright, I'll talk to her when I find the right time.”  
“No,” Blake said, “you're going to talk to her _as soon as possible._ If you keep waiting, you're never going to do it.”

“I can't just walk up to her in the hall and ask her if she's a lesbian, Blake.”  
“I'm not even telling you to do that. Just...do it soon, alright?”  
Yang raised an eyebrow, suddenly getting an odd feeling from Blake's rapid interest in this.  
“You...seem to know an _awful lot_ about girl on girl relationships.”  
“If you're implying that you think I'm gay,” Blake said, “you're way off-base. I'm giving you this advice because I've done this song and dance before. It doesn't matter what bits you have, do it soon, otherwise you'll be stuck pining for this girl.”

Blake retreated to her side of the room, picking her book back up to resume her studies. Maybe Yang should actually study, too. All this talk of relationships was just making her depressed.

 

* * *

 

  
A special exercise had been granted to the graduates of Induction Week. One squad at a time, each company would get a ride on a UH-60, taking them on a short ride around the area. Experienced sergeants would be on the field at all times and in the helicopter to make sure they got in and out safely, as well as preventing them from falling out during the ride.

For this, they had been assigned full combat gear, including replica rifles to carry with them onto the helicopter. Their briefing was simple – each squad was to wait in a designated area, and once given the order, they were to advance and mount up on the UH-60. Individuals were assigned as pointmen for their squads. In theory, they'd be first off, last on.

Ruby waited anxiously for the helicopter to arrive, dropping off Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora and Ren. Tension filled her as it touched down, each member hopping off and “securing” the area.  
“Go!” a sergeant shouted, and at once they stepped off, with Blake leading the way. Once they had neared the helicopter, Blake turned around and crouched near the entrance, tapping their legs to count them off as they boarded the helicopter. Once all had boarded, she jumped in herself, where sergeants strapped them in and made sure they were secure.

Slowly, the helicopter dusted off, and the drill field became ever smaller as they went up into the air. Off in the distance, she could see San Francisco's skyline, and the Golden Gate Bridge came into view. Ruby had never been this high up before, since she had not once left California or gone any father than Uncle Qrow's house in Sacramento. The scene was simply breathtaking, and she wished it would never end. How she wished she could fly on this helicopter all year long, taking her across the country.

But, she also couldn't help but be reminded of Mom when on this ride. Dad had shared some details of what he and Mom did when in Vietnam. They had been part of a special forces long-range recon team, heading deep into North Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong-controlled territory to conduct raids, sabotage, and find out where they were going next. More than once they went in on helicopters, or had to make a quick escape on one while under fire.

She wasn't sure, but Ruby believed that a friendly helicopter might have been one of the last things Mom saw. Dad never talked about Mom's last mission, and Uncle Qrow always changed the subject when it was brought up. All she knew was that it was at a place called Kham Duc, somewhere in southern Vietnam. Mom had probably been on helicopters like this all the time, flying across the jungles of Vietnam and seeing sights just like Ruby was now.

Ruby was taken out of her speculation by the helicopter approaching Beacon once more. The sergeants told them to be prepared to disembark. Already Blake was readying herself to count them off, taking her job as pointman seriously. Once it had landed, Blake stepped off the helicopter, counting them as they walked away and headed back to their waiting cadre.

Another fun day over. The routine would return soon enough.


	13. October-November, 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cadets reach the end of their first semester, and prepare to go home. Language choices become the topic of discussion.

“They're all staring at me,” Weiss said.

Ruby looked up from her burger, scanning the local Irish pub and restaurant she and her friends had called home for the past month. She didn't see any more eyes on them than usual. More often than not, they had to deal with half-drunk locals who wanted to share a bed with them, only backing off when Yang and Blake got irritated enough to threaten violence.

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked, looking back at Weiss.  
“They know I'm not from here.”  
She looked at Weiss's still-pristine West German uniform, with scarcely a thread out of place. Her softcap was neatly tucked into the shoulder tabs, ready to be retrieved should they need to make a quick escape outside. Really, the only difference between her and Ruby was the flag, and Weiss's uniform didn't feature a camouflage pattern.

“Weiss, come on...”  
“Do you think I like being stared at, Ruby?”  
“Well, no,” Ruby stammered. “But still. They don't see Germans every day. 'Specially not those in a uniform.”  
Weiss sighed. “I wanted to join Beacon to _get away_ from my father, not be reminded of him every day.”  
“You dad doesn't own the German military, though.”  
“He may as well, with all the contracts he has.” Weiss shook her head, folding her arms. It was plainly obvious she didn't feel welcome here anymore.

Ruby looked around again. She still didn't see anyone or anything unusual. Maybe she just couldn't perceive the sidelong glances people were giving Weiss. Maybe Weiss was more used to people staring at her, and knew what to look for when people thought she wasn't looking.  
“Do you want to go?”  
“Ugh, no,” Weiss said. “That would just make it worse.”  
“Then what do you want me to do, Weiss?”

Weiss looked to the side, her eyes sad. A frown was on her face, a stark contrast to her usual stoic demeanor.  
“I don't know,” she finally said. “I'm just tired of being treated differently. I'm not at the _Führungsakademie_ , Ruby. I shouldn't have to wear this uniform.”  
“It's what Sergeant Adel said,” Ruby replied, shrugging.  
“Sergeant Adel doesn't run this academy. Commandant Ozpin does.”  
“You really want to run this all the way up?”

Weiss took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as she looked off to the side, hopeful.  
“If it's what I have to do to be considered an equal, and not an outsider, then yes. Yes, I do.”

 

* * *

 

  
Languages were important to an officer's career, the academic advisers told them. The US Army had a tier system for all languages offered at Beacon, highly encouraging new cadets to choose from those at Tier 1 before any other. The rationale behind this was that most Beacon graduates were expected to head to Germany immediately, or would be destined to work in intelligence. Therefore, Tier 1 consisting of what the academy called “Russian and Soviet Bloc Languages”, Chinese, and Spanish was only natural.

Even specializing in Russian and Soviet Bloc Languages had options, if one was so inclined, offering bonus points for learning either Russian, Polish, German, Hungarian, Slovak, Czech, Romanian, or Bulgarian. Obviously, Chinese was also highly-sought after for officers on an exchange program with the Republic of China. Spanish was well-sought after for those destined for intelligence work, or those who were particularly fearful of another conflict with a South American country.

Tier 2 languages consisted of Korean, Arabic/Farsi, and Hindi, all of which were considered important to learn, but did not reflect nearly as well on the cadet as any of the Tier 1 languages. All other languages, such as French, Italian, Portuguese, Japanese, and Vietnamese were solidly under Tier 3, which offered no benefits to a cadet either way, other than possible kudos for speaking it, their native English, and a Tier 1 language.

What would Ruby pick? Her dad had taken Russian at Beacon. Uncle Qrow took Korean when that was offered as Tier 1, and though she had never heard her speak it, Mom had been as fluent as a native speaker in Chinese, or so Dad claimed. Maybe German? Weiss could help her learn it, and Ruby would have her friend right there to work on it outside of class.

Ultimately, however, after talking to her academic and military advisers, Ruby decided on Spanish for the fall semester. She was joined in the Spanish community by Pyrrha, and there she'd have at least one friend to study and practice with. That'd make the experience more bearable for sure. Informal polls went around – who was taking what?

Weiss technically already qualified for the Army's requirements, but she still needed language credits for her degree. By chance, she had met and talked to an exchange student from the Republic of China, and gained a fascination with China that led her to choose Chinese. Nora had met the same student, and likewise became enamored with the Chinese nation and language.

Joining in the duos of languages, Blake and Ren both decided to go for Arabic, for different reasons. Blake sought out Arabic because she believed the Middle East would be the next battleground, either through a proxy war or hot war. Ren picked Arabic due to a preexisting inclination towards Islamic studies, intensely curious about the Arabic world and all it had to offer.

Breaking from the trend were Jaune and Yang, each branching into Russian and Soviet Bloc languages for their two years of language. Jaune picked German ostensibly because he aimed to be deployed to Germany, but most could see the paper-thin excuse for what it was – a way to be close to Weiss. Yang meanwhile, out of left field seemingly, picked Russian. Anyone who knew her was well aware of the reason, though, an excellent chance to be friendly with one of her favorite sergeants from Echo. Yang had practically rushed to tell her before anyone else, with Sergeant Raines already teaching her a few beginner words she'd need to know.

 

* * *

 

  
Their first field exercise was coming up. Everything they had been learning in Colonel Port's military science class (when he wasn't grandstanding over ancient history) would be put into effect here. They would be traveling to the countryside to take part in a full brigade-level maneuvers, and full realism was expected. The only thing missing were bullets and magazines in their rifles.

For Bravo, it meant a short bus trip to the rendezvous point, followed by a long march to the area of operations. Ruby's squad was designated as a pointman unit, leading the pack with Sergeant Adel. She had briefed them heavily on what to do and what to expect, with a harsh warning that she wouldn't tolerate any tomfoolery.

Their patrols took them into a nearby forest, where Sergeant Adel ordered them to slow down and be on the lookout. For what, Ruby didn't know.  
“Bravo Actual,” Sergeant Adel said into her radio, “this is Bravo 3-1. We've reached our objective, please advise, over.”  
Silence. Then, seconds later, the radio beeped. Somebody was transmitting.  
“Bravo 3-1,” the First Sergeant said, “Bravo Actual copies your traffic. Hold position and wait for further, over.”  
“Understood, Bravo Actual. Bravo 3-1 out.”

She had them move a bit further so that they would be just beyond a set of trees, heading into a small clearing. From there, Sergeant Adel ordered them to spread out to a five-meter spread, each member of the squad assigned to watch a specific sector she had designated.

The time passed lazily, with not much happening in the sectors they were watching. After about fifteen minutes by Ruby's estimation, Sergeant Adel called the squad back to formation, moving out once again. She told them that they were to rendezvous with another squad, and from there they'd rejoin the rest of the company. The entire exercise seemed pointless to Ruby. They weren't even executing any particularly difficult maneuvers here. Why arrange and distribute them randomly like game pieces? Eventually, she figured they had a good reason for doing it, even if she had no way to guess why.

 

* * *

 

  
“...and be sure to adhere to personal appearance regulations while on leave. We have members of the Corps worldwide, cadets. Don't dishonor yourselves while at home.”  
The captain dismissed them as part of the company's final formation before winter break officially started, a mere two days after final tests and exams. Two days to pack everything up, give the barracks a thorough cleaning, and return any items they wouldn't need at home. Most of the cadets, like Yang and Ruby, lived in the area and could afford to be a little lax in packing up their things. However, for people who lived farther out in the world, like Weiss and Blake, they had to cram everything into these short forty-eight hours.

Speaking of the two, the tension between them had cooled over the months, but obviously had never gone away completely. They tolerated each other in the field, and were cordial to one another when out, but still refused to speak directly to one another. It apparently still wasn't enough for the First Sergeant to consider a transfer, however.

It came to a head over a missing belt, of all things.

Weiss had spent far too long packing her uniform, spare clothes, and other personal items into her bag, meticulously counting each item she put in and took out again in German. Ruby wasn't sure what she was really doing – hadn't she folded and unfolded her extra uniform three times over by now? Why was she so hung up on what looked to Ruby like a simple task?

Eventually, Weiss sighed, and turned to her roommate. “Ruby,” she asked, “you wouldn't happen to know where my spare belt is, would you?”  
“Um...” Ruby stuttered, trying to remember if she had seen it. She eventually shook her head no.  
“Great,” Weiss said, shaking her head. She stood up, and headed next door to Yang and Blake's room. There, Blake was doing the same thing as Weiss, if perhaps less detail-obsessed.  
“Hey,” Weiss announced, standing in the door. “Do either of you have a belt too many? I'm missing one of mine.”  
Yang shrugged. “Nope, not here.”  
“I've only got two,” Blake said.

“Are you _sure?”_ Weiss interrogated, stepping into their room and looking around.  
“Your belts are different from ours, Weiss,” Blake said, no longer paying attention. “We'd know if we had it.”  
“Well, I'm going to look around here anyway.”  
“What?” Blake asked, standing up to stop her. “No. We don't have your belt, go look in your room.”  
“Woah, Blake, chill out,” Yang said, trying to defuse the situation.  
“Maybe one of you put it in your packs,” Weiss said, reaching for Blake's rucksack.

Blake instantly pushed Weiss's hand away, perhaps with a bit more force than necessary. Ruby heard a very solid smacking noise, that could only have come from Blake forcibly preventing Weiss from invading her pack's privacy. Weiss jumped back visibly at the hit, surprised by both the action and the force behind it.

“What was _that_ for?!” Weiss demanded, clutching her hand.  
“Who do you think you are, trying to go through my ruck? Are you insane?”  
“I am _not_ going back to Germany with a belt missing!”  
“I already told you _we don't have your belt,”_ Blake said, pointing to Weiss and Ruby's room. “Go look in there, you probably forgot it in a drawer or something.”  
“Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?” Weiss challenged.  
“You tell me,” Blake shot back. “Don't go through my stuff. You don't get to do that.”

“Oh my God,” Yang said, clutching her head in frustration. “Will both of you just chill the hell out and stop yelling at each other? Jesus Christ, I can't even hear myself think with you two like this.”  
“Sorry I'm not letting some bitch go through my stuff like a fucking Gestapo agent,” Blake said.  
“I already warned you, _don't_ say things like that to me,” Weiss said, gritting her teeth.  
“You're on _real_ thin ice here, Weiss.”  
Ruby looked to her sister, who had shut her eyes and gone to rubbing the bridge of her nose, trying to figure out some way to break these two out of their machine gun-like arguing. The shouts grew louder despite Ruby and Yang's pleas for them to calm down, or at least stop shouting at each other long enough for _somebody_ to look for the damned belt.

Their shouting match stopped dead cold when angry pounding assaulted their door. All four of them froze. Even Weiss was able to keep quiet for a moment, as they stared in abject terror at the door. They had drawn the ire of one of their sergeants, or worse, one of the Lieutenants or maybe even the Captain. Ruby cautiously went to the door and opening it, afraid that whoever was on the other side was waiting to breach and clear. A clearly pissed-off Sergeant Adel entered, casting a death-filled glare upon all of them.

“I swear to God,” Adel said, growling as she stalked into the dorm. “I will smoke _every single one of you_ if I don't get a good answer for what the hell's going on.”  
“Sergeant,” Weiss said, standing at ease, “I'm trying to find my belt!”  
“So why do you need to be so _loud_ about it, Schnee?”  
“Sergeant, Private Schnee believes her belt is in our room!” Blake reported, standing by her ruck.  
“Well, _is it?”_  
“No, Sergeant!” Blake said.

Sergeant Adel shook her head angrily, muttering something about “being the judge of that,” tearing through Yang and Blake's room on the hunt for a belt that may or may not have existed. After asking permission to go through Blake's ruck, Adel turned it over, dumping out any contents within and tossing them across the room, not particularly caring who or what she hit.

“Pick that crap up,” she said once she was done scattering Blake's things around. She now turned her attention to Ruby and Weiss's room, doing the same thing with Weiss's pack. Ruby wasn't there to see it, but she could hear Weiss's drawers and various bags being thrown open, everything they owned being tossed around in an effort to find the belt.

“Schnee!” Adel shouted, bringing Weiss to the doorway.  
“Yes, Sergeant!”  
“I found your belt,” she announced, followed quickly by the sound of said belt hitting the carpeted floor hard. “Check your things more carefully next time. Police this room, you and Rose both.”  
“Yes, Sergeant!” Weiss and Ruby said in unison, quickly heading back in to recover from the veritable tornado that had just gone torn through their dorm.  
“As for _all of you,”_ Adel announced, just about to head out the door, “make sure I don't hear something like this again. If I have to drop my plans to make sure you four don't kill each other, I'm going to be a lot less kind. Do you understand me?”  
“Yes, Sergeant!” they answered.

After about five minutes of picking up the various things Sergeant Adel had strewn about the room, Weiss headed back over to Yang and Blake's side, with some level of regret on her face.  
“Blake,” she said, standing in the doorway, “I...I'm sorry for not believing you. I should have looked more carefully.”  
Blake sighed, pausing from repacking her ruck. “It's alright. I'm sorry for calling you a Nazi. Again.”  
Weiss didn't look like she truly believed that, but nodded and retreated to her room anyway. There was scant time to talk now. Weiss and Blake both had to pack quickly if they didn't want to have even less time to contribute in cleaning the barracks.


	14. December, 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren and Nora go home to Wisconsin. Blake returns to Hawaii for winter break.

Home.

It meant different things to a lot of cadets. For Ruby and Yang, it was home-cooked meals and stories of days at Beacon with Dad, spiced up with the occasional happy Vietnam memory. For Weiss, it meant coming back to a divided homeland, with the ever-present threat of Soviet invasion on her mind as she tried to endure the paternalistic environment of the Schnee estate, Winter's brief and altogether too infrequent visits providing the only reprieve.

Jaune's return home was met by his many sisters, each one wanting to know what Beacon was like, who he had met, whether he had any girlfriends yet, how long it would be until they'd see him again, and trying to get him to model his uniform for them. With Pyrrha's return to New York, she found herself back in the welcome arms of her _yaya_ and the numerous Greek restaurants she had dearly missed while at Beacon, both doing their best to stuff her full of food despite Pyrrha's insistence that she didn't _need_ the extra weight.

However, for Ren and Nora, their arrival at the terminal in Madison, Wisconsin didn't feature family, or at least any that cared enough to see them at the airport. Friends were few and far between in the town as well. Apart from some general acquaintances (most of whom were surprised to have learned they had even left), the population was indifferent to the plight of the two orphans.

Ren thought the affair was particularly sad for Nora. In the time he had known her, he didn't recall her saying anything about family from before they met. He knew his father – or memories of him and Mom, at least – but both his parents had died fighting in Vietnam. Vague memories came to him of what might have been Chinese, or just as easily Korean, Japanese, or maybe even Vietnamese. He was too young to know, and time had eroded the memories to general outlines.

But Nora? Nora didn't know anything of her past, other than a vague Scandinavian heritage she clung to like a security blanket. Or, at least, if she did know, she didn't tell him. It was days like this, when it was just them against the world, that he thought of the first day he had met her. For reasons unknown to Ren, no family members could take care of him, and so he was deposited into the care of the state, shuffled from foster home to foster home, never staying anywhere for more than a few months.

Ironically, he remembered Nora as a shy, scared little girl when they first met. It was only by somehow being able to stay by his side for nearly a decade that she had grown into the loud, boisterous, over-aggressive woman he knew today. He figured that trying to fight everyone who made fun of her and Ren had made her overcompensate some parts of her personality, which translated into...well, Nora.

He was still amazed at her ability to temper her usual aggression during Induction Week, but like many things in life, when Nora wanted something, she would stop at nothing to get it. He admired that about her. Maybe one of these days, he'd tell her about it.  
“Hey, Ren?” she asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening to me?”  
“Yes, I would like some food, no, I don't think that Old Man Takanura will give us a military discount, and yes, it _does_ look different around here today.”  
“I knew you weren't ignoring me!”  
“Why do _you_ think it looks different?” Ren asked as they got off the cold bench to head to the local sushi place.  
“Huh?” Nora replied, interrupted from speculating on Sergeant Daichi's “mysterious” past. “Oh, I dunno, I guess being at Beacon made me forget what Wisconsin was like. Like, seriously, all this snow! Wow!”

“Nora,” Ren reminded her, “it _always_ snows here in December. California rarely if ever gets snow, especially around Beacon.”  
“I know,” she said. “But still. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! I bet you, right, Sergeant Daichi's secretly a Yakuza agent here on a top-secret mission to...”  
Nora's wild and rampant guesswork continued, a rambling he listened to dutifully if only to make sure she didn't forget to breathe. Her talking continued as they headed into the sushi place, paused only long enough for Nora to plead with Old Man Takanura for a military discount, which, as Ren predicted, he didn't give them. The fact they still wore their Beacon uniforms, even with Ren's sans insignia, didn't seem to affect his decision.

“Hey, so when _do_ you think you'll get your brigade patch, huh?”  
Ren paused. His conspicuous lack of insignia was still a sore subject, a reminder that, through no fault of his own, he was unable to participate in the Black Mountain Run. Ren was sure he would have been able to do it, but the medics had denied him any exercise for the day. He wasn't sure if he had ever been infected with tetanus, but he had been given the shot anyway, which on its own disqualified him in the medic's eyes.

“I don't know,” he finally said. “I believe the next Induction Week is in February, so perhaps then. I still need to run the Black Mountain.”  
“I don't see why they don't let you do it on your own,” Nora said in between bites of food. “S'just a run.”  
“Come on, Nora, you know it's more than _'just a run'_. It's a ceremony. Without the rituals behind it, there's no meaning. I need to _earn_ that patch like all of you did.”  
Nora didn't say anything in response, unusual for her. She seemed to be carefully considering her words, another unusual thing for her.  
“Well,” she finally said after an agonizingly long time, “in my book, you earned it. I'd give you mine if I could.”

Ren wasn't sure how to react, if he was being honest with himself. He paused again mid-chew, swallowing hard.  
“Thank you, Nora,” he said.  
She smiled warmly at him. “No problem, Ren.”

 

* * *

 

  
Coming back home for Blake was like going back to being a kid again. So many familiar faces, all happy to see her, congratulating the prodigal daughter for going to “the mainland” for the military and study. She would have time to talk to childhood friends later. It was time to go to home, her real home, and not just the broad spectrum of her island.

Her house was as she had remembered it. An old Victorian, filled to the brim with problems that her parents had never gotten around to fix, and immensely comforting. Mom was already on the porch reading a book, waiting for Blake to come home. She happened to look up just as Blake was walking down the path to the front door, a smile crossing her face.

“Hey, Mom,” Blake said, dropping her ruck on the grass next to her and smiling back.  
Her mom didn't need to say anything. It was clear from her expression that she was overjoyed to have Blake back home. Blake enveloped her mom in a tight hug, having dearly missed her mother's warmth and joy she spread to anyone nearby. From the house, she heard a door open and then close.  
“Kali, honey, is -” Dad. He knew when he saw it. Blake broke from her mom's embrace to turn to Dad's, a veritable bear hug if she ever knew one.

“Well, we can't stay out here all day,” Mom said, already motioning for Dad to take Blake's ruck in. “Come in, come in, tell us all about Beacon.”  
“Dad, really,” Blake said, half-jokingly pleading with him, “you don't have to take my ruck in, I got it.”  
“Nonsense! You had a long flight, Blake, my little soldier deserves some rest.”  
The table had already been set for the five of them, with _nikujaga_ boiling in the kitchen, probably close to done judging by how it smelled. Dad was already heading to Blake's room, on a mission to deposit her ruck in there and encouraging her and Mom to sit down and start talking without him. Mom had begun firing off a volley of questions, curious about things she knew full well but wanted to hear again just so she could see Blake's face light up.

Blake answered as best she could, but she couldn't see _ojiisan_ anywhere. It troubled her.  
“Mom,” Blake asked when she found a chance to get a word in, “where's _ojiisan?”_  
“Oh, of course,” Mom said, suddenly reminded. She got up, and stood to block Blake's path, looking at her very seriously. “Blake, you need to know. _Ojiisan_ has...gotten a bit worse lately.”  
“How bad?” Blake asked, trying to steel herself, but well aware she might not be prepared for the answer.  
“He...he's seeing things, Blake. He's been very angry lately, and...I'm afraid we don't always know what makes him that way. If it's ever too much for you, it's okay to step out of the room -”  
“I can take it,” Blake said confidently, though she wasn't sure she really believed that.

Her mom took a moment, then nodded softly. She led her to a room in the back, where _ojiisan_ sat in his chair, an old armchair he had bought with his first paycheck – or so Dad always said – a cup of water next to him on a small end table. The TV was on, playing the news of the day. _Soba_ was nearby too, reading a book.  
“Hi, _ojiisan,”_ Blake said, smiling as she walked in. “Hi, _soba.”_  
He looked up, seeing Blake, and both he and soba smiled in return.  
“Well, hey there, sport,” he said, motioning to her. “You came back after all!”  
“Of course I did. The mainlanders couldn't keep me forever.”

Blake took her usual spot, kneeling next to _ojiisan_ and his chair, a spot she had held since she was a little girl. Many of her days had been spent here, listening to _ojiisan_ and _soba_ tell her stories about life in the camps, the war, and taking care of her while Mom and Dad were in Vietnam.

“So, tell me about it, Blake,” _Ojiisan_ said, “how's that academy of yours?”  
She told him everything about Beacon, recounting stories of Induction Week, her First Sergeant, her friends, classmates (except Weiss – she left her out of her tales), and what she had learned so far, answering every question he had to the best of her abilities. So far, this seemed like the same _ojiisan_ she knew and loved. What was Mom so worried about?

“Now, I'll tell you,” _Ojiisan_ said, leaning close to her, in the middle of telling her about something he had seen last week. “These kids had better stop messing with my damn flag, they're liable to bring the whole pole down if they're not careful.”  
“Huh?” Blake asked. “What kids?”  
He pointed out the window with his cane. “I seen them all the time out there, messing with my flagpole, like it's some kind of toy or something. I yell at 'em, but _soba_ says they can't hear me through the window.”  
Blake looked to her mom and _soba_ , trying to find an explanation. Mom shrugged, and _soba_ just looked to the floor. What was going on?  
“Well,” Blake said, “if I see them, I'll go talk to them for you, okay? Or if you see them, call me over, alright?”

_Ojiisan_ smiled, nodding. “That'd be nice, Blake, thank you. Maybe seeing a woman in proper uniform would make 'em think twice, huh?”  
“Yeah,” Blake said, smiling. “Maybe.”

Mom later came to Blake, after _ojiisan_ and _soba_ had gone to bed, telling her that seeing children near the flagpole was one of the things she had talked about earlier. There never were any children there, Mom said, and trying to tell _ojiisan_ otherwise just made him mad. Other times, he would just be upset at something, and nothing could appease him. It was better to just let him ride it out, Mom said, and leave him alone for a while unless he asked for something.

Blake saw this side of _ojiisan_ a few times during her stay at home, though it never lasted longer than an hour or two. Each time he was angry, or he saw children and wanted Blake to go chase them away, it tore at her heart. She could tell he was getting worse, and the doctors only confirmed it when they came back with the diagnosis of Alzheimer's.

At least, it was a _partial_ diagnosis. They could only speculate after hearing of the symptoms, because _ojiisan_ was too proud to let them take him to a doctor for a formal exam. They said it could be Alzheimer's, or early dementia. Maybe both. Until he swallowed his pride and let them take him to see a doctor, they could only guess and do what they could.


	15. March, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new semester brings challenges for the cadets. Weiss and Blake find common ground. Preparations for the VITAL Festival begin.

Weiss hated being in this study hall.

 

She and Blake had been assigned as study partners for their shared trigonometry class, a prospect neither of them found amusing in the slightest. Unfortunately, Professor Zala was indifferent to their pleas, and categorically refused to reassign them. The pair worked mostly in silence, showing work to confirm to each other that they had the concepts firmly under their grasp, but beyond that not even sharing the same paper. Weiss didn't see a need to – she had learned algebra and geometry in German, learning trig in English couldn't be _that_ hard.

 

“Dammit,” Blake muttered. “If _O_ is the orthocenter of the circumscribed circle of triangle _ABC_ and _I_ is the center of the inscribed circle, show that ‖ _OI_ ‖2 = _R_ ( _R_ – 2 _r_ ). What the hell?”

“What?” Weiss asked, looking over the problem Blake was quoting. “That's not one of the problems we need to do, don't worry about it.”

“Yes it is,” Blake said, pointing to her workbook. “Problem 10. We're to do 5 through 11.”

“Problem 10 is finding _z_ nin the equation, not about triangles or whatever. Are you sure you're looking at the right one?”

“If I were on the wrong page, would I have the same answers as you for the last four problems?”

 

Weiss shrugged. She didn't have time to deal with Blake's sarcasm right now. These problems were difficult, far more difficult than what Professor Zala had gone over in class. The homework was frustrating. In Germany, she had passed her math classes with flying colors, but here at Beacon, she struggled with each problem, each concept, like she was speaking a foreign language.

 

Well. She _was._ But that was beside the point.

 

She hated that she struggled here. Their first real promotions were coming up, many of them having already been granted the honorific title of Private First Class for managing to go one semester without a demerit or other such issue. Classroom performance was one of the many things she knew the Promotion Board took into account when distributing promotions, and if she did poorly here, it may come to affect her if she ever came up to be promoted to sergeant or lieutenant. Weiss was deathly afraid of missing out on a promotion because she had failed to perform here. If she was to miss a promotion, then she would rather it be because she had failed as a leader, and not because of some hellish professor who didn't know how to explain the material.

 

“Weiss,” Blake said, breaking her out of her private ruminations. “Can you check my math on this?”

Blake slid a piece of paper over, showing her work on the problem she had outlined earlier. Weiss honestly had no idea what the hell Blake was doing – she didn't remember learning this in class. Was this problem even part of their lesson this week?

“What page is this problem on?” Weiss asked.

“44,” Blake answered.

 

Weiss flipped to the given page, finding it far beyond what they were doing.

“Blake, you fool,” she said, shaking her head. “We're not in this lesson yet. You're too far forward.”

“Ugh, dammit,” Blake said.

“And _stop swearing,_ ” Weiss reprimanded. “You know the sergeants don't like it.”

“I don't need a lesson in moralism, alright? I get it enough from Sergeant Kurt.”

“Maybe he wouldn't keep telling you about it if you stopped swearing around him.”

 

Blake slammed down her pencil, staring at Weiss.

“Weiss, just _drop it,_ okay? I haven't gotten a demerit for it yet, so until I do, leave me alone.”

Weiss shook her head again, amazed at Blake's disregard for the sergeant's words. Did she even want to _be_ here? Weiss wasn't sure anymore. It was almost like, some days, she was trying to get herself kicked out. Whatever. If Blake wanted to sabotage her own chances at a commission, that was fine by Weiss. One less person to worry about when the day came.

 

* * *

 

 

A good day had turned into an even better one. In spite of Weiss's prediction that she would be first to be promoted, Sergeant Adel had handed Blake her corporal tabs, and congratulated her on doing so well. The promotion board had seen it fit to give Blake a leadership position, as minor as it was, acting as a second-in-command to Sergeant Adel within the squad. Technically, Blake was now Weiss, Ruby, and Yang's superior, even if that superiority was nominal.

 

Naturally, her first call was home. _Ojiisan_ had to hear she had gotten promoted – it would make his day. Like usual, the phone rung, and after a few rings Mom picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mom, it's Blake. Is _ojiisan_ nearby?”

“Oh! Hello, Blake! Yes, he's here, do you want to speak to him?”

“I do, I have some great news for him!”

 

Blake heard the phone being moved from person to person, until finally _ojiisan's_ familiar voice came through.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hi _ojiisan,_ how are you doing?”

“Oh, Blake! I'm doing fine. I hear you have some news for me?”

“I got a promotion, _ojiisan!_ I'm a Corporal now!”

“A Corporal?” he asked. “How great! Eh, now...what were you when you came here?”

 

She heard him ask Mom something, and he told Blake to hold on for a moment. She heard more noise on the other end of the line, and could have sworn she heard Mom say something about “the photo” she took. What was going on over there?

“Oh,” he said, not really speaking to Blake. “Who's this with you? She looks just like you, Kali.”

Blake's _everything_ stopped, as she stood there with her mouth agape. She didn't hear what was happening on the other end of the line, but it probably wasn't what she _wanted_ to hear anyway. How could she reconcile this in her mind?

“Blake? Are you there, sweetie?” Dad.

“Uh,” Blake stuttered, “y-yeah. Hey, Dad.”

“I'm so sorry, we should have warned you,” Dad said. “He's been having problems remembering faces lately. We didn't know if you were one of them, darling.”

“Well, I guess we know now, don't we?” Blake said, maybe a bit harshly, and realizing her mistake. “I'm sorry, Dad. It's just...I don't know.”

 

“No, don't apologize, Blake. We understand. I'm sure he's thrilled you got promoted. He sounded happy to hear it.”

“Yeah,” Blake mumbled. “I gotta go, Dad. It's almost curfew. Tell everyone I said bye, okay?”

“Alright. Bye, Blake. We love you, and will be thinking of you.”

“Love you guys too,” Blake said.

 

She hung up the phone, trying and failing rapidly to conceal the intense sadness within her. Blake leaned against the telephones, defeated and exhausted, just wishing the world would swallow her whole right then and there.

 

Someone tapped on her shoulder, and on instinct Blake jumped, whipping around to face the offender. It was Yang.

“Woah, calm down,” Yang said. Her demeanor changed when she saw how visibly upset Blake was. “You alright? You look like hell.”

Blake could not hide her emotions. Her face screamed out against her, indicting Blake for having emotions, a grievous offense in the wrong moment.

“No,” she said. She tried to elaborate, but couldn't. What more needed to be said?

Yang sensed Blake's difficulty in trying to get words out, and silently she led her back to their room, away from any potentially prying eyes or ears.

 

Once back in the room, Yang quietly sat with Blake, offering her anything she thought could comfort her. It took many a cup of tea, and several deep breaths before Blake was able to actually put it all into words.

“My _ojiisan_ , my grandfather, he...he has Alzheimer's.”

“What's that?”

Blake sighed again. “He's forgetting things. He knows who my parents are – for now, at least – but he forgets things like what day it is, whether he took his pills or not. He thinks my grandma is his mom sometimes.”

“Oh, no,” Yang said, wrapping an arm around Blake. “I'm so sorry, Blake. That sounds terrible.”

“He was doing really well lately,” Blake said, struggling to keep tears at bay. “But...he doesn't remember me anymore. I had my picture taken with him when I was there. He knew me then, but just now, I talked to him and Mom showed him that picture, and he asked...”

She paused, barely able to say the words as she hastily drew breaths.

“He asked what?”

“He said, 'Who's this with me? She looks just like you, Kali.'”

 

“And Kali is…?” Yang asked.

“My mom,” Blake answered, sobbing even harder now.

Yang held her friend tight, trying to help her as much as she could.

“So...you were talking to him, and he didn't know who you were in the picture? Did he, like, recognize your voice?”

“Yeah,” Blake said, sniffling. “He knows my voice, but he doesn't know _me._ ”

“Oh my God, Blake, I'm so sorry.”

“There's so much I want to ask him. He fought in World War II, all over Europe. But he won't talk to me if he doesn't remember me, Yang.”

 

A soft knock came at the door jamb. Blake looked up to see Weiss, frowning. Oh God, not her. Not now. Why did she have to show up when Blake was at her worst?

“Hey, Blake,” Weiss said, strangely sympathetic. “I...I couldn't help but overhear.”

“Can you just...not right now, Weiss?” Blake asked.

“Blake, I wanted to say I'm sorry for what's happening to your family. I truly am. Nobody deserves that.”

“That's...great, Weiss,” Blake said, trying very hard not to show any more weakness. “Look, can you-”

“Please, Blake,” Weiss said, genuinely sad for her. “Let me tell you something.”

 

Weiss walked into their room, taking Yang's nearby chair and sitting in it. She folded her hands on her lap, and took a deep breath.

“My grandfather was like a lot of German men. He thought joining the _Heer_ was his duty. For him, fighting in the World Wars wasn't even a question. I don't know much about what he did, since Father and Mom don't like to talk about it. I don't know whether he was a Nazi, just someone going along, or hated Hitler with everything in him. The only thing I _do_ know for sure is he wasn't a Communist.”

 

“All I have to mark my grandfather's service with Germany are old pictures, one from 1914, the other 1938. I don't know where he went. He could have been on the Western Front both times, or maybe with the _Deutches Afrikakorps._ He might have even been on the Russian front the whole war, I have no idea. But you _do._ You know where your grandfather went, what he did. You at least have something to work off of.”

 

“Weiss, if this is-”

“I'm not done,” Weiss admonished. “Trust me, Blake, I know what it's like to not know. My grandfather died long before I could ask him any questions. You still have time. If I had your time? I wouldn't care if he remembered me or not. Talk to him, Blake.”

Weiss smiled warmly. “And let me know about it. I'd like to hear what your grandfather did, when you get the chance to tell his story.”

 

Apparently having made her point, Weiss stood up and left, leaving Blake and Yang alone once again.

“Do you think she means it?” Blake asked.

“I guess so,” Yang said. “Come on. Let's go distract you. Wanna hit up the pub?”

“I really don't want food right now, Yang.”

“Forget the food, we'll take in the sights there.”

 

Blake laughed, the first time she had done so since getting off the phone with Mom. It felt good to laugh. Even when trying to comfort her friend, Yang still found time to lust over women. Blake hoped she would never change.

 

* * *

 

 

The VITAL Festival. Every four years since 1887, international cadets came to a host academy, participating in friendly and semi-competitive wargames. It also was an excellent opportunity for cadets to gain an international perspective, learning from foreign cadets and their cadres as they came to share experiences, give lessons, and provide an insight to differing command styles.

 

Ruby had heard VITAL was shorthand for Veteran International TrAining League, which was not the name in 1888 when it involved only Beacon and the other signature military academies. Since the end of World War Two, the program now included not just Beacon, but Führungsakademie des Atlas in West Germany, Haven Defense Academy in Japan, and Vacuo National Security College in Israel, among other academies in France, the United Kingdom, Italy, Australia, and South Korea, to name a few.

 

This year, however, owing to rising tensions, only West Germany, Japan, and Israel had committed teams, each with their own reasons for doing so. Beacon was the host this year, and the brigade had gone into overtime preparing their campus for guests. A new barracks, specially built to host the incoming teams, had been erected last year while they were still in Induction Week, and it was almost ready now. The drill field was cleaned, and cleaned again, and a small army of groundskeepers patrolled the field daily, zealously ensuring not even a single blade of grass was too high.

 

Bravo and other companies also religiously policed the barracks and other buildings, ensuring that even when the janitorial staff took a break, there was someone who would be picking up garbage, dusting off surfaces, and verbally assaulting anyone who didn't. Nothing escaped the critical eye of the Lighthouse Brigade.

 

“They'll be here any day now,” Weiss said, looking over her schedule.

Cadets who had been selected to participate in the VITAL Festival were granted reprieves from schoolwork, and allowed to make up any missed work and classes during the time. Their squad was one of many from Beacon allowed to join in, acting as OPFOR, or opposing forces, for the visiting cadets during their wargames.

“Hey, your sister graduated from the German academy, right?” Yang asked. “Is she going to be here?”

“Maybe,” Weiss said. “I don't know if she was invited.”

“Wait, if they're inviting former cadets, does that mean your dad and uncle are going to be here? I'd love to talk to two Special Forces officers,” Blake commented.

 

“Dad's not coming,” Ruby said, “but Uncle Qrow might be? I don't know, did he tell you, Yang?”

“I haven't heard anything,” Yang said, shrugging her shoulders.

Ruby hoped her uncle would come to oversee the events. Former cadets, if they were interested, were invited to watch over the proceedings, acting as referees, mentors for junior leaders, and observers for their respective militaries. It was considered a great honor to be invited to watch over the VITAL Festival. More than anything, though, Ruby was excited to meet cadets from Germany, Japan, and Israel, and see how foreign cadets conducted their trade.

 

 

The first cadets came from Japan. Their white-and-red dress uniforms were immaculate, representative of the rising sun flag they came under. Translators were there, directing the visiting Dawn Brigade from Haven to their barracks, though their numbers were less a brigade, and more in line with a company. The entire festival itself would last until midway through March, giving the visiting cadets and home team plenty of time to learn about each other.

 

The Germans arrived three days later. The _Offizierschulungsbrigade_ , commonly known as the Prussian Brigade, came onto campus with a perfect march, almost mechanical in their movements. Ruby thought they must have been incredibly hot in their long-sleeved black and gold uniforms, and if what Weiss had told her was true, they weren't even allowed to roll their sleeves up without orders from a superior officer. If she also believed the rumors, the Germans still used wool uniforms whose designs dated to pre-WWII.

 

Finally, the Israelis arrived, a stark contrast to the precise Germans and Japanese. Their uniforms were straight khaki, purely utilitarian fatigues rather than the pomp-and-circumstance filled dress uniforms the Atlas and Haven cadets arrived in. They didn't even appear to have much of a care – from what little Ruby saw of them, not one of them saluted one another, and jokes freely flew. The _Hvrah htybh,_ called the _Ra'am_ or Lightning Brigade, seemed more like a group of friends out for a camping trip rather than future defenders of the nation.

 

The pieces had been set. The Germans, Japanese, and Israelis had all arrived, settled into their barracks, and briefings were already being handed out. The first field exercises between Beacon, Haven, Atlas, and Vacuo were to start in two days.


	16. April, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The VITAL Festival brings cadets from West Germany, Israel, and Japan to Beacon, and the Israeli cadets annoy nearly every American present. One in particular bothers Blake to no end. Exercises for the VITAL Festival go in full swing, with some surprising results for the cadets from Beacon.

Blake didn't know what had made this Israeli cadet hang around them all day.

 

What she did know, however, was that he annoyed the everloving shit out of her.

 

He had introduced himself as Corporal Wukong, a suspiciously Chinese name for an Israeli. For whatever reason, he and his friends had decided to hang around her squad during their visit at Beacon, each one of them bugging Blake, Ruby, Yang and Weiss for where the best spots to eat were, how long they could stay out before a sergeant noticed, and whether Commandant Ozpin was really four hundred years old.

 

For her part, Blake only informed him not to use the drill field as a shortcut, and kept any detailing information about herself a secret. Already, a Japanese cadet had violated their regulations by trying to take a shortcut, earning a tackle to the concrete for his efforts. Blake didn't want to see anyone else fall prey to that, but at that same time...if they did it now, it was their own damn fault in her eyes.

 

Blake could tell that, for whatever reason, Corporal Wukong had an attraction to her. She couldn't fault him for his feelings, but did he have to be so damn obvious about it? Once he had figured out what he felt, he hung around her and _only_ her, much to Blake's chagrin and annoyance. He asked her questions about everything, most of which she rebuffed, wondering about her home, her family, why she joined Beacon, what she wanted to do in the military, her degree, anything and everything he could think about.

 

He just never. Stopped. Talking. How did he have such a capacity for conversation? How did he even have the _breath_ for it, much less the time? Did he even sleep? Eat? Before two days were up, Blake was half-convinced he was an Israeli experimental robo-soldier like she had read about in her science fiction books. Maybe the Israelis thought they could defeat their enemies by annoying them to death.

 

God, and he'd be here for another two weeks. Blake settled in for what would probably be an excruciatingly long half-month. If Wukong and his friends kept this up, she'd never have a quiet moment again.

 

* * *

 

 

Yang had finally done it.

 

The trials for Rogue Platoon had come right when the foreign cadets were arriving, but it didn't matter. They were going ahead anyway, and Yang would be a member of the platoon or die trying.

 

Alright, that was maybe more dramatic than necessary. Nobody at Beacon would allow someone to die during their stay here, not when it could be avoided like when doing exercises. But, dammit, Yang wasn't about to let something as little as a few fancy trials stop her from joining Rogue Platoon.

 

She had been excited to act as OPFOR in just the VITAL Festival, but being part of Rogue Platoon was the mark she wanted to get. Ever since she had heard Sergeant Raines talk about her experiences with the specialty group, Yang had wanted to be part of it. Sergeant Raines's stories of their unity, brotherhood, and high standards all appealed to a baser instinct in Yang, one that wanted to be elite.

 

As it turned out, however, the “fancy trials” she had derided were some of the toughest things she had ever done. A week in hell, all designed to break her down even further than Induction Week, and impress upon Yang just how high the standards would be. Runs designed by Satan himself, brutal physical challenges that destroyed weaker and unprepared cadets, and a rigorous, demanding drill, both for parade and field work. She had met every challenge, lost some, but came back for more anyway.

 

Not one of them knew whether they made it until the week ended. The only way to know for sure was to voluntarily withdraw, a choice many took. They had been rated on technical ability in field work, physical scores from the challenges, and God-knows how many hidden factors the Rogue Platoon cadre refused to share.

 

Yang was one of the lucky few who had made it. This was apparently the largest group to join Rogue Platoon since 1899, a mere 23 cadets out of at least a hundred who faced the trials. Hope was not lost on those who didn't get to join, however – Rogue Platoon allowed them to face the trials as many times as they wanted, with four trial periods over the year.

 

But first, Yang had to tell her favorite sergeant what she had done.

 

Sergeant Raines still retained her Latvian accent, even after years of speaking English. It was just another quirk of hers that Yang couldn't help but find irresistible. The two had become good friends, and still Yang had dragged her feet on saying anything about how she felt, contrary to Blake's recommendations. In time, Yang told herself, she'd do it. But today was the day for different news.

 

She found Raines on a bench, just outside of campus, reading a book. On what, Yang didn't know or care, not when she saw Raines look up and smile at her, nodding slightly to acknowledge her presence.

 

“Hey, Alphabet,” Sergeant Raines said.

“Alphabet” was her nickname for Yang, constantly mispronouncing her actual last name and deciding that nickname was easier on both of them. It had managed to stick, and soon all of Bravo was calling Yang “Alphabet”. Yang didn't mind it. Each time she heard the nickname, it reminded her of Sergeant Raines.

“Sergeant,” Yang said, barely containing her glee, “guess what I did?”

The sergeant's eyes darted back and forth, trying to guess. Eventually, she got it, smiling wide.

“You're Rogue Platoon now, aren't you?” she asked.

Yang excitedly nodded, and immediately Sergeant Raines jumped out of her seat, grabbing Yang and ensconcing her in a tight hug.

“I'm so proud of you, Alphabet!” she said. “I knew you could do it!”

 

“Thank you, Sergeant! God, I can't believe it! I really did it!”

Sergeant Raines clutched Yang's shoulders, staring deep into her eyes. God, just the sight made Yang's heart skip a beat. How she wanted to just lean forward and kiss her right now. But, that would be against regs, and definitely too forward. Maybe she should say it now? Maybe now was the time?

“You're going to be one of the best cadets we've seen in Rogue Platoon, Alphabet.” she said. “I just know it. You're going far.”

Yang took deep breaths, trying to calm her heart, which was working overdrive with emotion.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Yang finally said. “Thank you for all the support you've given me.”

“Alright, I gotta go, Alphabet. Good luck, alright?”

 

Sergeant Raines left, leaving Yang standing near the gates to Beacon with her heart feeling like she had just done a marathon.

 

_One of these days,_ Yang thought. _She'll know._ She sighed, and before she knew it, Pyrrha was next to her.

“What's going on, Yang?” she asked. “You look pretty happy today.”

“Come on, lemme tell you _all_ about it.”

Yang relayed the past hour, from triumph with Rogue Platoon to meeting up with her favorite sergeant. Both she and Pyrrha were so engrossed in Yang's storytelling that they completely forgot which gates they were going through to get back into campus.

 

Pyrrha realized it before Yang did. She stopped cold, suddenly fearful. Yang noticed her friend had stopped walking, and turned back to look at her.

“Uh, Pyrrha?” Yang asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “You OK there, dude?”

“Yang,” Pyrrha said slowly. “Which gate did we just go through?”

Yang paused, unsure what she meant. Didn't they go through the same gate as always? She looked behind them, tracking their path, and realized they had gone through the Class of 1951's gate, and not the small one.

“Oh, fuck,” Yang muttered.

 

It was just a silly superstition, right? There was no way that going through the “wrong gate” would actually affect their lives, right?

 

Right?

 

* * *

 

 

The Japanese cadets were sticklers for recognizing superior officers, well beyond what many Beacon officers were used to. They spoke formally at all times, and Ruby wasn't sure she had ever seen one of them smile.

 

The Germans adhered to regulations like crazy glue, rattling off the precise letter and number of the regulation violated if one of their soldiers was caught. Their punishments looked strict and harsh to Ruby.

 

But the Israelis? The Israelis didn't seem to care in any way. Ruby had already noted their casual dress and appearance, but the way they had acted since arriving just astounded Ruby.

 

They had done two competitive field exercises so far, each one focused on seizing an objective held by Ruby's squad, and a few others selected as OPFOR. The Japanese carefully and meticulously executed their plan, taking it with few casualties. The Germans dispatched their members on tasks, free to handle them as the junior leaders saw fit. Ruby's fellow Beacon leaders did what she expected – classic fire and maneuver warfare.

 

And then the Israelis came. They knew they were coming, having loaded up for another round with blanks in their rifles and plenty of water, ready for the Israelis to come for them. Sergeant Adel expected another hour or so of no action while the Israelis planned an attack. She had them patrolling about forty meters ahead of their main defensive position, providing them and the rest of the OPFOR command with some advance warning. Blake and Yang had just gone out on their patrol, leaving Ruby and Weiss at the main line, watching and waiting.

 

Gunfire broke out after not even fifteen minutes. It surprised all of them. How had they planned out an attack this quickly? Yang desperately radioed the main line, hoping to get somebody to come and help her, under fire and with her position rapidly becoming untenable. Sergeant Adel was about to round up Weiss and Ruby to go out and relieve the pressure on her and Blake when Israeli infantry appeared on both of their flanks at once.

 

A desperate firefight ensued, with the Israelis constantly breaking off attacks and reengaging from new directions, preventing Beacon from grouping up and getting their bearings. Chaos was all around Ruby, until finally the referees called her squad as being “out”. Half an hour later, the Israelis had successfully taken the objective, having somehow slipped past their forward patrols. Yang and Blake told them that they had been out patrolling as normal, when suddenly the Israelis attacked them from the rear.

 

The referees and visiting senior officers quickly declared the Israelis the most efficient attackers out of the four participating teams, but did note their execution left much to be desired. The Japanese placed second, the Germans third, leaving Beacon fourth. It wasn't a good start to the urban warfare section of the tournament.

 

* * *

 

Aside from sweeping the urban warfare element of VITAL, the Israelis had a lax streak that drove every single sergeant, American, German, or Japanese, absolutely mad. Far too often on joint field patrols, the Israelis left their safeties off, still treating the entire event like a camping trip with guns than a multinational military exercise.

 

They even had a collective itchy trigger finger. Weapon discharges coming from the Israelis were common as well, thankfully without issue so far. The Commandant impressed heavily upon the Israeli senior officers that they had better get this issue sorted quickly, otherwise there would be some unspecified consequences.

 

The Israelis also forgot to hand in their weapons after exercises. It got bad enough that not a single Beacon sergeant wanted to be assigned barracks duty for the Israelis. Ruby saw this firsthand when a sergeant burst into the OPFOR command center one day, where she was assisting Bravo's captain with office duties.

“Will _someone_ tell the Israelis to stop bringing loaded rifles into the goddamn barracks?!” the sergeant shouted, trying to find the highest-ranking officer in the headquarters.

 

* * *

 

 

As predicted, Qrow Branwen and Winter Schnee both made appearances at the VITAL Tournament, representing the US Army and the West German Bundeswehr, respectively. The elder Schnee constantly harangued on not only the Atlas cadets, but the American cadets as well, never pleased with their performance in the field. She emphasized the importance of proper recon, a trait she sorely found lacking in the Israeli and American cadets especially. It was a disgrace, Winter often said, that they couldn't properly conduct a recon mission without being discovered by the OPFOR.

 

Qrow, meanwhile, remained content to observe the proceedings, only offering input when directly asked. More often than not, his criticism was levied upon Beacon, finding their responses to changing battlefield conditions overly reliant on fellow units supporting them. What would happen, he asked, if they were suddenly cut off, and without any support whatsoever? He occasionally gave critical advice to the Japanese, Israelis and Germans, but his words to them were fleeting, and almost always mystical.

 

Pyrrha wasn't sure what to think of Major Branwen. On one hand, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. On the other...she had heard he was Special Forces in Vietnam. She had seen Ruby crying over her mother's memorial stone during Induction Week, and had checked it out when she gotten spare time to fill in the pieces herself. Pyrrha knew Vietnam changed people, and if what little she knew about how special forces operated was true, Qrow Branwen could be a very damaged man.

 

Still, that didn't stop her from poking his mind, to see if he could give her advice to join Special Forces. Being a Ranger, maybe moving on to Special Forces afterward, was her primary goal post-Beacon.

“So, Major,” Pyrrha said.

“Don't call me Major,” Branwen said. “Don't call me sir, either. Call me Branwen or Qrow. I don't care which.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha replied, caught off-guard. “Then, uh, si-Branwen. What was it like being Special Forces?”

He sighed, slowly blinking as he looked at Pyrrha.

“You're not SF material, kid.”

 

He must have noted how taken aback Pyrrha was, since he rolled his eyes.

“Look, I don't say that because I don't like you. You're one of the better ones in Ruby's company. I mean that you do not have the personality we look for in SF.”

“I don't think I understand,” Pyrrha said.

“Takes a special kind of person to join the military. It takes another kind of person entirely to do special forces work. You've got the one, but you don't have the two. Not from what I've seen.”

 

Pyrrha paused, considering his words. What did he mean? What kind of person _was_ Special Forces material, then, if she wasn't? Was Yang SF? Ruby? Ren? Was there a single person here today that Branwen thought qualified for Special Forces?

“Oh, and because I know you're wondering,” Branwen said, breaking the silence. “Ruby and Yang got the same speech. They wanted to be SF too, a long time ago. Nothing wrong with being a regular.”

She thought this over for a few moments, before deciding that, well, he was right. She would still do everything to be a Ranger, if possible. Maybe she would shelve her plans for Special Forces. Maybe she would ignore his advice and try to do it anyway. It was all up in the air for Pyrrha.

“Thank you, Branwen,” she finally said. He curtly nodded to acknowledge her thanks, shifting his focus back to the exercise in front of him.

 

* * *

 

 

A common rallying cry whenever Beacon won an exercise was “Victory Is Totally Awesome, Losers”, a goofy backronym somebody in 1961 had come up with, when Beacon swept the year's exercises against traditional rivals in France, Japan and Italy.

 

But today, it was being used against them. A group of Atlas cadets strolled past Ruby and Weiss's position, mockingly saluting them.

“Victory is totally awesome, losers, _ja?_ ” one of them said, exaggerating his salute a thousand times over.

“ _Ich hoffe, du verlierst einen Knopf bei der Inspektion!”_ Weiss shouted back at him.

They had horribly lost the open field exercises today, outmatched in defeat only by the Israelis. The German tactics proved to be too strong for them. Nora and Ren approached them, rifles slung across their shoulders and looking glum.

“Guess we really screwed up, huh?” Nora asked.

 

“One always learns more from defeat than victory,” Ren said, though Ruby could tell not even he believed it.

“At this rate,” Weiss said, “we won't even get recognition. Haven and Atlas have been wiping the floor with us.”

“There's not much we can do,” Ruby chimed in. “Other than fight harder, I guess.”

“Have you seen those Japanese cadets, though?” Nora asked. “You pin them down, they fight like they're on Iwo Jima or something. How do you compete against _that?_ ”

 

Ruby didn't know the answer. None of them did. All they could do was hope that their renewed efforts, alongside motivational words from their leadership, would give them at least some kind of victory.

 

* * *

 

 

The VITAL Tournament ended with a Haven victory, followed closely by Atlas, and then a tie for third place between Vacuo and Beacon. Each cadet, regardless of nationality, had learned a lot during the exercises. Beacon's leadership planned to conduct a trial run of German-style command for a while, trying to see if allowing subordinates more freedom to conduct missions as they saw fit would lead to success. The Israelis vowed to study heavily the lessons brought upon them in the field exercises, with open field fighting apparently a skill they had lost.

 

Meanwhile, the victorious Japanese thanked their hosts for such difficult battles, taking many notes from the Israelis on their urban warfare tactics and strategies. The Germans took lessons from as many people as possible, all the while deriding the linear and overbearing Japanese command structure. Next time, they vowed, Atlas would take gold and show Haven how it was done. Beacon and Vacuo promised the same, assuming of course the French didn't decide to show up in 1989.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ich hoffe, du verlierst einen Knopf bei der Inspektion!” - German; "I hope you lose a button at inspection!"


	17. May, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finals week brings stress to the cadets, which manifests itself differently. Yang finally gets the courage to talk to Sergeant Raines.

“I'm telling you, I saw him!”

 

Weiss wasn't sure whether Blake was on drugs, trying to trick them, or just totally losing it during finals. Maybe it was a combination of all three.

“General Wysteland?” Yang asked, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. “You're sure?”

“Yes!” Blake shouted.

She had just come back from retreat duty, demanding they stop what they were doing to check the window with her when she had burst in the door. All four of them had peered at the lighthouse, where Blake claimed she had seen General Wysteland's spirit, but none of them could see anything except an empty lighthouse.

 

“Are you sure you're not just seeing things?” Weiss asked.

“Why the hell would I hallucinate a fucking Civil War general?!”

“I don't know,” Weiss said, shrugging. “Stress over finals, maybe?”

“Alright, whatever,” Yang said. “I'm too tired for this. Y'all have a good night.”

 

Weiss shrugged again, heading back to her and Ruby's room.

“I believe you, Blake,” Ruby said as she departed, prompting a thanks from Blake.

“Well, I guess if you saw him,” Weiss said, “then I...guess you saw him.”

“Oh come on, Weiss, don't you remember?” Blake asked. “Nobody's seen him since the 20's. It's good luck to see him, remember?”

“I don't believe in ghosts,” Weiss replied. “But, if that's what you believe, then so be it.”

 

* * *

 

Blake insisted even knee-deep into finals week that she had seen General Wysteland, and that spotting his spirit would give her good luck not just for the impending finals, but for the rest of her career. She constantly looked to the lighthouse at night, hoping to see his apparition again, but no such luck. Weiss still believed she was delusional, perhaps partaking in something dishonorable.

 

“You think I'm crazy, don't you?” Blake asked Weiss one day in study hall, out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“For the Wysteland thing,” she explained. “I can tell.”

“Oh,” Weiss said, trying to split her attention between trigonometry and Blake. “Well, I already told you, I don't believe in ghosts.”

“From what I hear, Germany's full of them. Are you sure you haven't come across any?”

 

“Oh, please,” Weiss said, rolling her eyes. “It's not the 1500s. We don't all live in haunted castles.”

Blake put down her pencil, suddenly very serious and staring straight ahead. What was she thinking?

“I guess I just want to hear someone else say it,” she finally said.

“Say what?”

“It's just...you know how my _ojiisan_ is. I guess I'm holding out some stupid hope that I can still have a way to talk to him after he's gone.”

 

“Oh,” Weiss muttered, not at all prepared for such a philosophical talk in the middle of trig. “Um, well, if it makes you feel any better, I _do_ believe in a Heaven. I don't know what your family believes – and I don't need to know – but I think you'd be able to see him again there.”

Blake's eyes darted around on the table in front of her, deep in contemplation at Weiss's words. Did she actually help Blake, or did she just make it worse? Weiss couldn't tell.

“Hey, Weiss?” Blake said, her voice cracking.

 

“Yes?”

“I know I've been kind of a bitch to you, and...I shouldn't have been. I thought you were just some spoiled rich kid who didn't deserve to be here when I first met you.”

Weiss smiled slightly. “And now?”

“You're still a spoiled rich kid,” Blake said, cracking a smile of her own. “But you belong here. Thanks, Weiss.”

 

_Well._ Weiss figured she must have done something right. She still had her issues with Blake – her hair-trigger reaction to call Weiss a Nazi prime among them – but maybe this was the start of a real friendship for them. Maybe the First Sergeant had been right to not transfer them after Induction Week.

 

* * *

 

 

The good news was that, so far, Pyrrha was doing well.

 

The bad news was that, so far, Pyrrha was doing well.

 

It was a contradiction that had sent her into a panicked spiral of self-loathing and obsessive hatred, manifesting itself in a hyperfocused drive that few seemed able to snap her out of. She spoke almost entirely in Greek, only breaking out of it when a sergeant addressed her. Jaune, Ren and Nora were unable to get her to speak English, unless pretending to be a sergeant for a few moments. Pyrrha rarely had any memory of these events, only knowing that, for whatever reason, she was losing chunks of time and her friends were now concerned about her well-being more often than not.

 

It seemed one of these such moments was why she now was sitting in a therapist's office, by the Captain's order. It was a nice office, surely, and that made the idea of being here less miserable. Photos of what Pyrrha assumed to be the therapist's family hung on the wall and desk, alongside psychology books that dotted a small bookshelf. Pyrrha herself sat on a couch, more like one she'd find at her _yaya_ 's house over the stereotypical chaise lounge chair she saw in movies. And, of course, the therapist, a Dr. Northrop, sat opposite of her.

 

“So, Pyrrha,” she asked. “What brings you here today?”

“Well,” Pyrrha said, shifting uncomfortably in the couch, “my Captain ordered me here.”

“That's unusual. Did he say why?”

“I...I don't really have any recollection of it, but my friends say I only speak Greek.”

“Do they mean that literally?” Dr. Northrop asked, curious.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “They said I've been intensely focused on whatever I do lately, which I think is good.”

 

“But you hold _some_ doubt,” Dr. Northrop said, taking a quick note.

Pyrrha shrugged. “The sergeants don't seem to mind.”

The doctor made a few other notes, before looking back up at Pyrrha, concern written all over her face.

“Pyrrha, I can tell something's bothering you. Is it academics? Cadet life? Maybe something else?”

“I don't _feel_ stressed,” she said, avoiding the therapist's eyes.

“Remember, you're safe here. Nothing you say here will go back to your Captain unless you tell me I can let him know.”

 

Pyrrha folded her hands in her lap, trying to find the right words to describe the pressure of simultaneously doing well, but being expected to do _more._ After long enough, she decided to say exacty that – the pressure to do well and do more was making her crack.

“What do you mean,” Dr. Northrop asked, “do more? Like, extracurricular activities?”

“No, I mean...growing up, I was always the best in everything I did. I was a straight-A honors student, I was the MVP in softball and volleyball, aced every test and quiz. I'm doing alright here, but my parents and grandparents are waiting to hear that I'm on the fast-track to become First Sergeant, or Captain.”

 

“I see,” the therapist said. “So, you have pressure from home to be the top, but can't reach it?”

“I… I suppose so,” Pyrrha replied.

“You didn't happen to speak Greek at home, did you?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, surprised. “I spoke Greek almost the entire time I lived at home.”

“Alright, here's what I think is happening,” Dr. Northrop said. “I think you're trying to be the best here at Beacon, but when you can't, your mind thinks you're in danger, and because of that, your mind seeks escapism in the form of something familiar, in this case speaking Greek.”

 

“So...” Pyrrha said, wondering what was next, “what do I do to avoid that? I'm losing time, and my friends all say that they can't help me when I'm only speaking Greek.”

“Well, I can't formally diagnose you with anything, but you do seem to be reacting negatively to the stress of finals week,” Dr. Northrop said. “What I would do is focus on your senses. If you find yourself slipping, focus on five things you can either touch, see, hear, taste, or smell, and ground yourself that way.”

“And that will help me from losing time?”

The doctor shrugged, giving Pyrrha eyes full of concern. “Truthfully, I don't know. It will certainly help you deal with the stress, that's for sure. Beyond that? I can't tell. I'll let your Captain know that we spoke of possible solutions, but I do want both you and him to be on the lookout in case it doesn't help, or God forbid, gets worse. Alright?”

 

Pyrrha nodded. She wasn't totally sure if she'd have the strength to get through finals without another episode of speaking Greek, but if she could do these little grounding exercises could help her, she'd take all the help she could get.

 

* * *

 

 

It was finally the end of finals week, and as a last hurrah, most of the cadets had gathered in the drill field to say final goodbyes before they caught planes, trains and automobiles back for home. Yang had said goodbye to a lot of friends, and accidentally made a few new ones along the way.

“Oh hey, Sergeant!” Yang said, spotting Sergeant Raines.

Sergeant Raines smiled, nodding at Yang to acknowledge her presence. “Alphabet, good to see you.”

_It's now or never,_ Yang thought. She knew that Sergeant Raines would be spending only a few more days in the area, and after that, she'd be back to Georgia.

“So,” Yang asked, “are you going to be back here for summer? You could live with me if you're taking cla-”

“I won't be here anymore, Yang.”

 

Yang was taken aback, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”

Raines sighed, looking at Yang with weary eyes. They weren't the same joyful eyes Yang knew. These were the eyes of someone whose dreams had been shattered and swept away into the garbage.

“The doctors found a problem during my last medical checkup. I don't qualify for a commission anymore.”

Yang shifted her weight restlessly. She knew Sergeant Raines was here on a scholarship, and that scholarship would only pay so long as she qualified for a commission. If she no longer qualified...then by the Corps's and the scholarship's regulations, she had to leave. And if she had to leave, then she wasn't allowed to step foot on campus for a year, for any reason whatsoever.

 

And if she wasn't allowed on campus, then by default Yang couldn't associate with her.

 

“Wh-what kind of problem?” Yang asked.

“I have a heart condition,” Raines explained. “We don't know how long it's been there, but the doctors said the Army won't take me, even if I had surgery to fix it.”

“So,” Yang said slowly, still recovering from the initial shock. “You're going back to Georgia then.”

Raines nodded. She sighed again, and then hugged Yang, surprising her.

“I won't forget you, Alphabet. I'll try to keep in touch with you.”

“O-okay. Well, h-have a safe trip home. I'll be th-thinking of you.”

 

Yang escaped from the Sergeant's hug and headed off, pretending to have spotted another friend she wanted to talk to for the last time this semester. _Don't look back,_ Yang thought, _don't let her see you cry._

 

This always happened. Yang always found someone she could see herself with, and then they had to go away for whatever reason, either taken away by overprotective parents or shipped off to another state. Sometimes, she'd see them again only to find they thought of her as an experiment, a _stain_ on an otherwise impeccable history.

 

Sergeant Raines didn't feel like the kind of girl who'd “experiment”. She felt like the girl who knew what she wanted, and would do everything possible to get it. But, hey – Raines's one dream had been ripped away from her in a literal heartbeat. Who was to say Yang's dream couldn't be broken in the same way?

 

* * *

 

 

Blake wandered about the Xiao Long home, trying to find a towel so she could shower. She wasn't sure how a house this small was able to be so labyrinth-like, but maybe spending the summer here would make her familiar with it. This had to be her third pass around this hallway near the bedrooms.

 

A noise caught her attention, coming from Yang's room. It sounded like...crying? That was...odd. Blake didn't know Yang to ever really _cry_ before. The door was slightly ajar, but Blake couldn't see into the room beyond a small sliver that offered no information. If her friend was hurting, Blake had to help, right? Yang would do the same for her. She _had_ done the same for her, actually.

 

Gingerly, Blake opened the door, seeing a sobbing Yang, face-first in a pillow and totally oblivious to her entrance. Blake slowly ventured further into the room, gently touching Yang's shoulder to let her know she was there. Through tears, Yang raised her head, her usually immaculate makeup running.

 

“Hey,” Blake said softly.

“Hey,” Yang responded, sniffling.

“You alright?”

Blake figured she already knew the answer. She could tell Yang was in a lot of pain, trying very hard to maintain a strong face.

“No,” she finally said.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Blake knew she was potentially stepping into a minefield here. There was only one thing she could think of that would make Yang this upset.

“No. Yes. I don't know.”

“Was it...her?”

Blake couldn't help but watch Yang's tears come back.

“She has a heart condition, and can't earn a commission anymore. So she has to leave.”

 

“Oh, no,” Blake said. “Did you tell her?”

“I never got a chance to,” Yang replied. “I...I couldn't. I mean, she'll be in Georgia now. How can I be with her if she's halfway across the damn country?”

“Wait, hold on,” Blake said. “She can't earn a commission anymore, and you're worried about how you can get in her pants?”

“What?” Yang said, her sadness replaced by a flare of anger. “No, I never said that. Yeah, it's terrible, but -”

“But nothing, Yang. You told me all the time she wanted to get her degree and join the Army. Now she _can't._ She has to put her entire _life_ on hold because of this, right?”

 

Yang slowly nodded, still seething with anger.

“Yang, are you crying because you lost a friend, or because you can't sleep with her?”

“I'm hurting too, goddammit!” Yang yelled. “She was my _friend!_ ”

“I understand that,” Blake said. “But to me, it looks like you're missing an idolized version of her than the real person.”

“You know what,” Yang said, getting off her bed and pushing Blake out of the room. “I want you to get the fuck out. Leave me alone, alright? Don't fucking talk to me.”

 

Yang slammed the door after Blake left, and soon filled the air with Motley Crüe.

_Good job, Blake,_ she thought, shaking her head slowly. She had really gone and screwed up now, huh?

 

* * *

 

 

Blake had eventually found a towel, and taken her shower. Yang's room was still sealed off, and angry metal music blared from it, scarcely muffled by the walls. Ruby was nowhere in sight, nor was the Xiao Long patriarch. So far, it looked like Yang was unleashing her emotions by compensating with the loudest and angriest music she could find.

 

Blake couldn't exactly retaliate with her own – all of her records were back home in Hawaii. Not that she was angry, she was more disappointed in her friend. She was also regretful that she had made Yang even more upset. Maybe calling Mom would help. She hadn't had a chance to call home in the madness of finals week.

 

She found the phone without much issue, dialing the number for home. As usual, Mom picked up immediately.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Oh, hello, Blake! How is everything?”

Blake sighed. “Well...not great.”

“Did your finals not go well?”

 

“No,” Blake said, before realizing how that could be interpreted. “Well, yeah, my finals were fine. But...Mom, I think I made a mistake.”

“What happened?”

“You remember my roommate Yang? She...she had a pretty big crush on a sergeant from another company. Yang wanted to tell her how she felt, but never got a chance to.”

“Oh no, someone else took her crush?”

“No, not that. I guess the sergeant has a medical problem, and can't qualify for a commission anymore? Anyway, without that, the sergeant has to basically start over, on _everything_. And...”

 

“And what, Blake?”

“Mom, Yang doesn't _care_ that Sergeant Raines lost everything. She's too busy grieving over something she never had. It doesn't feel right that Yang's sitting here, still able to chase her dream, and someone she crushed on can't.”

“Well, wait, I'm confused,” Mom said. “What mistake do you think you made?”

“I told Yang all that. And now she's pissed off at me.”

“First of all, language.” Mom admonished. “Second, Blake, honey, you _did_ make a mistake. You're Yang's friend, and at a time when she was vulnerable, you tore her down instead of helping her.”

 

“So, I'm supposed to just sit by and let my friend be selfish?”

“You don't have to like what she does, Blake,” Mom said, “but it doesn't help her to have someone who claims to be a friend tearing into her more. You can _constructively_ criticize her decisions when the dust settles, but right now? She needs a friend, Blake.”

Blake rested her head on the desk the phone was on, knowing Mom was right, but not wanting to admit it.

“Yeah. I guess I should apologize, huh?”

“I wouldn't do it now,” Mom said. “Maybe wait a day or two. You'll have more moments like this, Blake. Don't stress over them.”

“Thanks, Mom. I gotta go soon, tell _ojiisan_ I said hi, okay?”

“I will. We'll talk to you later, Blake. Stay safe.”

 

Mom and Blake said their goodbyes, and she hung up the phone. Well, she couldn't fix it today, not with Yang ramping up the music even louder, but Blake could kill her friend with kindness in the meantime. Maybe that'd be a nice way to make up for her colossal failure.


	18. August, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new semester brings bad news for Blake.

Ruby anxiously awaited Weiss's arrival at the airport, hanging out with Dad until Weiss's flight landed. She hadn't written to Weiss the entire time she had been in Germany, but not for lack of trying. Ruby desperately tried to find out where Weiss lived, but the German refused to divulge her home address, and all the searches she did came up with nothing.

 

“Ruby,” Dad said, “you're gonna dig a hole to China if you keep pacing like that.”

“I'm sorry,” Ruby replied, sitting down in a chair next to him. “She should have landed by now, right?! Where is she?!”

“Probably waiting to get off the plane,” Dad speculated. “Takes a while sometimes.”

Ruby groaned. She couldn't wait. Where was Weiss? Why couldn't they get off the plane already?

 

The terminal door opened, and people began to flood out. This was it! Weiss's flight was unloading right now! Ruby sprinted as close as she could, peeking between people and over the taller ones in an attempt to find Weiss. So far, she hadn't seen any sign of her. Maybe she wasn't in uniform? But that didn't make sense. Why wouldn't she be in uniform?

 

Finally, Weiss and her large ruck came into view, and Ruby held her hand up high, waving to Weiss with a giant smile plastered on her face. Weiss rolled her eyes, but smiled and waved back anyway. Once Weiss was clear of the people disembarking from the plane, Ruby immediately ran to her, practically tackling her to the ground with a bear hug.

 

“ _Mein Gott!_ ” Weiss shouted, knocked off balance for a moment. “Ruby, what are you doing?!”

“I missed you!” Ruby said. “You went all the way to Germany and I couldn't talk to you!”

Weiss's annoyance faded, replaced by relief, or maybe...gratitude? Maybe it was just the pleasure of being back with friends at Beacon. The two caught up, with Ruby relaying to Weiss the music Yang had put on blast the entire summer, and Weiss gave Ruby a slightly wooden recount of life in West Germany. Soon, they had picked up Weiss's other luggage, and piled into the car to head to Beacon.

 

Weiss soon had a surprise for her at Beacon. Even though she had traveled back from Germany in her Bundeswehr uniform, she would soon be getting a US Army uniform for her to wear, by order of the Commandant. No longer would she be an outsider due to her uniform – she would now be just like the rest of them, a true member of the Lighthouse Brigade.

 

* * *

 

 

Another day, another hour locked in this classroom with Professor Rossini, who droned on endlessly about biology. Not once did he ever allow a word in edgewise for his students, despite how clearly behind many of them were. At points, his lectures were so boring, one would pray for death if only so they didn't have to listen to Rossini go on and on about something that, in all likelihood, didn't matter to their education. Even students who in the past loved biology came out of Rossini's classroom with such a deep hatred of the subject, they hoped all the world's biologists would coalesce into one nation so they could declare war on them.

 

The monotony was broken today by a staff sergeant entering the room, approaching Professor Rossini's desk. All eyes turned to the newcomer – he wasn't part of the class. Why was he here?

“Excuse me, Professor,” the sergeant said, removing his hat. “I hate to intrude, but I need to retrieve a Corporal Blake Belladonna? I was told she would be in here.”

“Here, Sergeant,” Blake said, raising her hand in a fist.

The sergeant looked at her, and nodded. “Alright, Corporal, get your things and come with me.”

Confused, but without time to question the sergeant, Blake quickly put her notebook and pencils into her bag, tossing it over her shoulder. She looked back at Yang, who was just as confused as she was at the spectacle. Blake could only shrug her shoulders in response.

 

Now outside the classroom and having been relieved of Rossini's torture, Blake quickly fell in line next to the sergeant.

“Am I in trouble, Sergeant?” she finally asked.

“No, Corporal,” her said. “You're just needed at the Commandant's office, is all.”

“Are you _sure_ I'm not in trouble, Sergeant? What's going on?”

“I know as much as you do, Corporal,” the sergeant said. “Just following orders.”

Well, that settled it. She wouldn't get anything more out of this sergeant, not until they got to the Commandant's office. A thousand possibilities went through her head as they walked, none of them good. Had something happened at home? Did an issue come up with her financial aid? Maybe the Commandant just wanted to speak to her about something. Not a single answer comforted her as she neared the now-imposing building that housed his office.

 

She was led by the sergeant into the Commandant's office, where he sat with his hands folded in front of him, clearly distressed by something.

“Corporal Belladonna,” he said, gesturing to an empty chair in front of his desk, “please, take a seat. I'm afraid I have some very bad news.”

Oh God. This was worse than she thought. Her stress levels rising, she took the seat offered to her, setting her bag off to the side.

“What...what's happened?” Blake asked, struggling to find her voice.

Commandant Ozpin sighed heavily, handing her a phone. “I don't have adequate words for it. Please, just listen, Corporal.”

 

Blake took the phone in her hand. Even before she had put it to her ear, even more situations passed by her, each one worse than the last. Was Mom okay? Dad? Or was it about _ojiisan_?

“Hello?” Blake said, even more worried than she had been before.

“Blake? Honey, is that you?” Oh God. It was Mom.

“Mom? Is everything alright? I'm in the Commandant's office-”

“Blake, sweetie, I'm so sorry. _Ojiisan_ passed away.”

 

She didn't even hear what Mom said after. Blake gasped quietly, clasping a hand to her mouth in a fruitless effort to stop herself from making any noise as tears rolled down her face. She thought she heard something about him passing peacefully, in his sleep. None of it mattered. What did matter was that _ojiisan_ Saito had passed, and she wasn't there to say goodbye. It tore her apart knowing that, even if _ojiisan_ didn't recognize Blake when he saw her, she couldn't sit next to him just one last time and say goodbye.

 

Through tears, Blake confirmed that yes, she'd do everything she could to get home for the funeral, and yes, she'd be alright for the moment.

“Corporal,” Commandant Ozpin said once she had said bye to Mom and hung up the phone, “please, let me know if there's _anything_ I can do for you. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Commandant,” Blake said, still sobbing inconsolably.

The Commandant slowly slipped out of the room, giving Blake some time to let her emotions out.

 

* * *

 

 

Blake had already told Weiss, Ruby, Yang, Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora and Ren what had happened, and they pledged the same – anything she needed, they had her back. Blake spent the next few days packing, after confirming with the First Sergeant that she was cleared to leave campus to attend her grandfather's funeral. Most importantly, she had confirmed that yes, her Class A uniform was appropriate for her to wear to the funeral, though she could wear black if she desired. It was Blake's choice, after all.

 

That Friday, Blake headed to the airport to go back home, taken there by Yang and her bike. All at once, Blake felt like a little girl, standing before a place that was too big for her and alone once again.

“Hey,” Yang said as Blake hopped off her bike, “you gonna be alright? Want me to hang with you until your flight comes?”

“No,” Blake said, shaking her head. “I'd rather be alone.”

Yang sighed, clearly worried for Blake. She put her helmet on one of the handlebars, and then hugged Blake tightly.

“You call us anytime, okay? We'll all be thinking about you.”

Blake returned the hug, holding just as tightly back. She had been good about not crying so far today, but this drove her over the edge.

“Thanks, Yang. I'll let you guys know when I land.”

 

Slowly, they pulled out of the hug, and Blake grabbed her rucksack to head into the airport, walking backwards and waving bye to Yang. Yang waved back, waiting for Blake to actually walk into the terminal before putting her helmet back on and speeding off back to campus.

 

* * *

 

 

Blake regretted wearing her dress greens to the visitation. She had enough to deal with just with _ojiisan_ dying, but now every second person she met was thanking her for her service. What _service_? She hadn't done anything to deserve thanks. She was barely even a real soldier, feeling with the passing minute more like a child playing dress-up.

 

Yet, she couldn't just snap at everyone who wanted to thank her. As much as she wanted to reject it, Blake smiled politely and acknowledged the fake service these people assumed upon her. Today was going well so far; she had kept strong for Mom, and especially _soba_. Blake could scarcely imagine what she was going through.

 

“Blake,” Mom said, escorting an older gentleman, “this is Akiyama-san. He said he wanted to talk to you.”

Mr. Akiyama wore dress greens, much like her own, but his was adorned with a stack of medals. She recognized one of them as a WWII service medal, and noticed his rank – Captain.

“Sir,” she said, saluting. “Thank you for coming to my _ojiisan's_ visitation.”

“It's the least I can do,” he said, returning the salute slowly. “Steve saved my life, you know.”

“He did?”

 

Mr. Akiyama nodded, heading over to a nearby chair to take a seat, inviting Blake to do the same.

“Monte Cassino. German MG42 on a ridge, Italian arty falling all around us. I was only a Corporal then, and I got hit by those no-good Krauts. Well, we was all in the foxhole together, waiting for them to let up so we could maybe advance, and Steve sees me get hit, and just drops his rifle and drags me to the medic himself. Didn't even think about that Kraut with the '42.”

“How long did you know him before that?”

“Hell, I didn't even know his name until the medic had checked me out. Eh, I only met you when you were little,” he emphasized how small she had been, “what's your name?”

“Blake, Akiyama-san.”

He nodded, before taking a look at her uniform. “Lighthouse Brigade, huh? I always wanted to go to Beacon.”

 

“It's a nice school,” Blake said, smiling.

“I'm sure. Steve would've been proud to see you like this.”

Blake tried very hard to maintain her smile, recalling the times _ojiisan_ _had_ seen her like this, but didn't remember. “I like to think so.”

She and Akiyama-san swapped stories, and she gladly listened to every anecdote he had to give her, as well as every piece of advice, whether it was relevant or not. For a little while, Blake had an escape from the terrible position she found herself in.

 

* * *

 

 

The visitation ended, and soon Blake was back home with her family, one less of course. Exhausted, Blake went to her room to shed her dress uniform. She had barely gotten her tie off when she heard the door open and close, and turned to see Mom walking in, smiling softly.

 

“Hey, Blake,” Mom said. “Are you doing alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Blake lied, trying to be strong.

“I don't know if Dad told you,” Mom said, “but we would love for you to be a pallbearer.”

Blake froze. She wasn't prepared for this. She had heard whispers of her being a pallbearer, but this was the first actual confirmation of it. Blake had barely been able to contain herself when she saw _ojiisan_ 's body. She couldn't fathom being able to handle being a pallbearer.

 

“I...” Blake muttered, “I don't know. I can't do it, Mom.”

Blake felt more tears flow from her face, and Mom immediately hugged her. She found herself unable to form words as Mom hugged her tighter.

“It's OK,” Mom quietly said as Blake cried into her shoulder. “You were strong for Dad and I, honey. Let it out.”

She felt like a child, just sitting there crying into her mom's shoulder. How could it possibly be okay? How could any of this be _right?_

“Please, Blake,” Mom pleaded. “Do this for me? It's so important. _Ojiisan_ would have wanted it.”

Damn. Mom just had to bring out the heavy artillery, didn't she? Blake dried her eyes, trying her best not to cry again.

“Alright,” she said, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. “Alright. I'll do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Being a pallbearer was just as depressing as the visitation. She stoically took the casket from the funeral home, to the waiting hearse, and then rode behind the hearse until they reached the graveyard, where she again carried it to a waiting grave, freshly dug. She listened as the priest said some words, indifferent to their meaning as she waited for this terrible day to end.

 

Finally, _ojiisan'_ s casket was lowered into the earth, and she saluted, standing at attention as an honor guard fired off a 21-gun salute. She felt tears stream down her face, but maintained her bearing even as the final volleys and final shovelfuls of dirt were laid upon _ojiisan'_ s casket. Only once the flag had been folded and presented to _soba,_ did Blake allow herself to break down, collapsing on the ground in tears.

 

She had finally done it. She had endured the worst day of her life. Blake could predict nothing that would match this day in sheer dread or sadness.


	19. September, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaune and Ruby struggle with personal issues.

Ruby Rose had a problem.

 

Her grades were good. She was likely to earn a promotion to Corporal. Her membership in the Mountaineers was a sure deal, with how well she had been doing in the climbing tests. The Spanish tutors told her she spoke as well as a native speaker, despite no experience speaking Spanish before.

 

So why did she feel so empty inside? Like all she had accomplished thus far was for nothing? Why did she feel like she woke up every morning and put on a mask, pretending to be someone she wasn't? Why did every day, every formation, every drill, feel like just going through the motions, a routine she only did because it was required and expected?

 

The company photo hung on her wall, alongside pictures of her, Yang, Weiss, and Blake, taken at different times throughout the year. She had scarcely talked to even Weiss or Yang these past few months, so focused on studying and getting into the Mountaineers that talk was nowhere to be found. Unless it was related to classes, the company, or what was happening in the next five minutes, Ruby didn't want to hear about it.

 

She looked at these pictures every day, at their smiling faces. She saw a sense of purpose in them, a feeling she didn't have anymore. Ruby desperately sought refuge in these pictures, trying to recover the happiness she had felt when they were taken, but got nothing but bitterness out of each viewing.

 

What had happened to her dream of wanting to come here in the first place?

 

Did anyone else even notice? Ruby wasn't sure they did. Yang always gave concerned glances after formations and when they had all-too-short breaks between classes, but she had her own problems to deal with and therefore didn't have time for Ruby. Weiss might have suspected something. Blake...Blake was fresh home from Hawaii. Did Blake even recognize a change in Ruby?

 

That particular assumption came crashing down when Yang, Weiss and Blake walked into her room one Saturday after morning formation. They looked concerned. Yang took point, pulling a chair from her room and setting it in front of Ruby, who sat at her desk trying to find motivation to study.

“Ruby,” Yang said, deathly serious. “We're pretty fucking worried about you.”

“Language!” Weiss admonished, before returning her gaze to Ruby. “Anyway, you've been...different lately.”

“W-what do you mean?” Ruby asked, trying to maintain her usual facade.

 

Yang sighed deeply, rubbing her temple. “ _Ruby_. Come on, dude. I've known you your whole life. Whatever the hell _this_ is,” she gestured wildly to emphasize her point, “it's not you.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ruby blatantly lied.

“Nobody's going to fault you for having trouble,” Blake said. “God knows we've all had some.”

 

Ruby looked at each of her squadmates. Each one of them stared right back, concern in their faces and clearly worried for her. She has wrong, then. They _had_ noticed. She couldn't stop herself – tears rolled down her face, both of sadness and joy that _somebody_ had noticed, and was trying to help.

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” she said, words tumbling out of her mouth. “I don't understand what's happening to me.”

Yang got out of her chair, and without a word, walked over and hugged Ruby tight. Ruby allowed herself to let her tears out, a rare show of emotion from her these days.

“It's OK,” Yang said softly, unceasing in her embrace. “Let it out, sis.”

 

Once Ruby had stopped sobbing long enough to figure out coherent words and get them out, she explained how the world was just... _bland_. Nothing interested her anymore, outside of studies and formations. No amount of effort could get her to _care_ about anything, it seemed. More than anything, the fact that Ruby just... _couldn't care_ terrified her, but she didn't know how to fix it.

 

Sadly, neither Yang or Weiss knew either. Their suggestions ranged from useless to absurd, encouragement she had heard a million times before and perhaps most irritating of all, “just smile”. Did they think she hadn't already tried that? Blake remained quiet, watching the proceedings until she had decided to intervene.

“Hey, guys,” she said, stepped between Yang and Weiss, “how's about you two give Ruby and I a minute, alright? I think a one-on-one would work better here.”

“Alright, I guess,” Yang said, shrugging. She and Weiss headed out of the room, closing the door behind them.

 

Blake took the chair Yang once occupied and set it closer to Ruby. Ruby could see in Blake's eyes that she probably knew exactly what she was going through.

“You probably already know this,” Blake began, “but don't listen to them. Weiss doesn't understand what's going on, and Yang is...well, Yang. She's an amazing sister, but...well, she's not exactly the best for subtlety.”

“Oh-okay,” Ruby said, unsure where Blake was going.

“I can't fix whatever's going on in your head, but I can sit here as long as you need me to, and I'll listen to anything you want to talk about. That applies _anytime,_ not just right now. If you want to talk, just let me know.”

“You're just saying that because you're a Corporal,” Ruby said. “You've gotta do stuff like this.”

 

“Nope,” Blake replied, shaking her head. “I'm not a sergeant. My only obligation to this squad is assisting Adel with whatever she needs. My leadership capacity right now is making sure we all show up when and where we're supposed to. I'm not letting that stop me from checking in with you all, making sure you're all good.”

Ruby's eyes darted across the floor, as if the gray carpet would hold some kind of brilliant insight to what she should say or do next.

“Thanks, Blake,” she finally said. “Hey, do you think you'll be Sergeant? Adel was talking about how she was going to be promoted to First Sergeant soon.”

“Maybe,” Blake said, shrugging. “I wouldn't mind it. But Weiss might get it, she's been doing pretty well lately.”

 

Huh. Sergeant Schnee. It had a strange ring to it.

“This isn't about promotions, is it?” Blake asked, breaking Ruby out of her thoughts.

“Oh, uh, no,” Ruby said. “No, I don't mind not being promoted. I just wish I could figure out how to care again.”

Blake nodded solemnly. “Well,” she said, smiling gently, “I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough. You've been good about that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Thanks again, Blake.”

“No problem, Ruby.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This is probably your worst idea yet, Jaune.”

 

Ren knew Jaune had a penchant for coming up with schemes to be the best in something, _anything,_ to compensate for his lack of physical fitness. But this, this probably was the dumbest one Ren had ever heard.

 

“No, no,” Nora said, beside herself with glee, “let him talk, I wanna hear it.”

“Okay, so,” Jaune said, bringing out a literal presentation he had made on the matter, “it's simple. I'm barely passing company PT tests, just about staying above minimum requirements. Tactics, I'm decent at, but the overall strategy I can't get.”

“We're not even supposed to really be worrying about that yet...” Pyrrha pointed out.

“But,” Jaune continued, ignoring Pyrrha, “the Promotion Board likes cadets who know their stuff. Therefore, if I memorize the command structure at Beacon, and know not only my superior officers and NCOs, but the chain of command for every squad and company at Beacon, I'll have a knowledge of the entire brigade's command structure. That's _sure_ to impress them!”

 

Jaune stood in front of his poster board, grinning from ear to ear. No doubt he was immensely proud of his idea. Ren looked to his left. Pyrrha stared at Jaune in disbelief, unsure what to say, or _how_ to say it. On his right, Nora was trying very, very hard to contain her laughter. She failed, unleashing a loud burst of cackling that pierced his ears.

 

“Jaune, I'm sorry,” Nora said in between laughing, “but do you really think this is going to work? Who would _care_ about all that? Why would the Board care?”

“I...agree with Nora's sentiment if not her wording,” Pyrrha said, trying to soften the blow. “This...just wow, Jaune.”

Ren shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it could work, but what happens if someone gets a promotion before you go to the Board?”

“That's phase 2, I'll build a predictive model for promotions across the entire brigade, using previous promotions and public class records!”

 

“You do know that you can't access another student's academic record, right?”

Jaune paused, his mouth agape. He must not have known.

“I….alright. That makes it harder.” He looked back to his presentation, deflated. “Then...this might not work. Okay. I can find something else.”

“That's the spirit, Jaune,” Pyrrha encouraged.

 

Ren hoped, if only for Jaune's own sake, he found his niche and soon. His underperformance was hurting all of them at this point. He and Nora didn't have much else aside from Beacon at this point, and he dreaded the idea of having to enlist just to keep his dream alive. Ren would much rather just stay at Beacon and be on the fast track to an officer's position.

 

* * *

 

 

Ruby wandered the halls of her barracks often, hoping that some sort of insight could be gained by walking Braeburn Hall. Supposedly, it had been named for a WWII hero, but she saw no reminders of that during her daily aimless walks. The only thing that really honored him here was the name, a contrast to Murphy Hall, where visages of Audie Murphy practically covered every wall, permanent reminders of him and his team.

 

She often wondered if any of them would be revered in this way. If the Russians ever decided to come across the Berlin Wall, would she be on the front lines? Would she and her team be honored as saviors of Germany, or held up as examples to avoid? Would the name Rose be synonymous with bravery under fire, or rigid and inflexible thinking?

 

She was so lost in her speculation on the future and her legacy, she barely noticed Jaune slumped against the wall, staring at the floor. Ruby looked him over, trying to decide whether he had accidentally fallen asleep or was trying to recover from something.

“Uh, Jaune?” she finally asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “You alright there?”

He looked up, surprised that somebody had spoken to him. Seeing who it was, he straightened out the ruffles in his garrison uniform, even though he didn't really have to.

“Hey, Ruby,” he replied, “uh, yeah, I dunno. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

 

Ruby stared at him a bit longer, before joining him on the floor.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked.

“Maybe I should have quit,” he said after a long time.

“Why do you think that?”

“I'm in the same place I was last year, Ruby. I'm only barely passing the PT tests, my grades are in the trash, and...well, let's just say I'm happy it's only been a month since I called Command Sergeant Major Burke 'sir'.”

 

“I mean,” Ruby said, trying to cheer Jaune up, “not everyone gets it the first time. I don't think Patton knew everything when he went to West Point.”

“We're supposed to be learning how to be the Army's new generation of leaders, Ruby. How am I supposed to lead if I'm just average?”

“I don't think you're average, Jaune.”

“My squad does. Below-average, at least.”

 

“What? Ruby asked. “Why would you say that? They're your _squad,_ Jaune.”

“Ren and Nora think they hide it, but I can tell. I...I don't know about Pyrrha. I like to think she believes in me, but if I were her? I'd have given up on me a long time ago.”

“ _I_ believe in you, Jaune. I don't know if that helps, but you have me cheering for you. That's gotta count, right?”

 

Jaune sighed, standing up. “Yeah. I guess so. Thanks, Ruby.”

“No problem, Jaune,” she said, smiling. “I know what it's like to feel like giving up.”

“Heh,” Jaune replied. “I can't imagine that. But alright. See you around, Ruby.”

 

_If only he knew,_ Ruby thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Since Sergeant Raines had left Yang's life, she had dropped all interest in anything Russian. In a desperate bid to escape a class and language that only reminded her of someone she couldn't have, Yang switched her language from Russian to Polish, aiming for something, _anything,_ to draw her mind away from the old flame. So far, it had been working well.

 

However, Ruby could tell that the Sergeant's nickname for her – Alphabet – still went on strong, and being reminded of that constantly was wearing thin on her sister. It was the entire company's unofficial nickname for her now.

 

Something had to give. For Yang, her irritation over it had become too much.

“Hey, Alphabet,” an innocent corporal said one day in passing to her.

“Yo,” Yang shouted, slamming down her pencil, “can you guys stop calling me that? For fuck's sake, I have an actual _name_ here. It's _Yang. Xiao. Long_. Don't call me Alphabet anymore.”

“Oh, uh,” the corporal stuttered, “a-alright, then, Yang. Sorry.”

 

Word of Yang's outburst spread, and just as quickly as the name had been adopted, it was dropped. She was no longer Alphabet from that point on, only simply Yang, or Xiao Long.


	20. October, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promotions come in. Weiss finds a new beau. Blake and Yang have a conversation about the past. Jaune struggles with German. Yang takes issue with the American Top 40.

In the interim between classes, tests, good times and bad, both Yang and Ruby had earned promotions to Corporal. Weiss too had earned a promotion, to Sergeant, a position Blake didn't mind, now that the two had mended their initial rift. Ren too had managed to make Sergeant, beelining right from Private to Corporal to his new rank in the short time he had been a dedicated member of the Lighthouse Brigade. Nora, Jaune and Pyrrha all remained at Corporal, with Jaune the newest addition to the two-chevron club.

 

Of course, that meant that the newly-minted Sergeants Schnee and Ren were now the squad leaders. Sergeant Adel was now the company's First Sergeant, earning her promotion above all others in no small part to her rigorous leadership and obsessive attention to detail. Sergeant Daichi, previously JNPR's squad lead, was now a Sergeant First Class, alongside familiar Bravo sergeants Scarlatina and Alistair. Each of them would mentor the new Sergeants, and provide assistance to First Sergeant Adel when necessary.

 

Speaking of their previous First Sergeant, 1SG Geary was now Lieutenant Geary, moving into an officer position for her last year at Beacon. Soon she, like Captain Murdock before her, would be on her way out and into the Army, or maybe even back to civilian life if she so chose. But, commission slots were low, and there was no guarantee that Lieutenant Geary would go where she wanted.

 

The pressure was on the upperclassmen to perform, and demonstrate their leadership capabilities. For many of the new promotees, this coming winter would be their first real trial.

 

* * *

 

 

Ruby never much expected to play matchmaker. Certainly not here, not just a year into their studies.

 

And yet, here she was, watching Weiss's heart melt.

 

Weiss had gained a reputation – as much as she wanted to disavow it entirely – of being an ice queen, a woman that few people could claim to know personally. That didn't stop many men, and a few women, from trying to break past her frigid exterior to get to know Weiss as well as her squadmates did.

 

Ruby didn't have much experience with the dating scene, but not even she was blind enough to miss the obvious sidelong glances Weiss and Sergeant John Brook gave one another. He was from Echo, and proudly wore the company motto on his sleeve. Literally, in fact – one of his first acts upon surviving Induction Week was to get the company motto of “Death before Dishonor” tattooed on his arm.

 

But, perhaps more welcome to Weiss, he already knew German. He wasn't fluent in it, not to Weiss's satisfaction at least, but he was conversational and that was all she wanted. It didn't take long before Ruby, and the entire campus, began spotting Weiss allowing herself to be escorted around by the sergeant, hooking his arm around hers to lead her from building to building. Strictly no PDAs, if nothing else Weiss would never allow that. The most she dared to step towards breaking regulations was allowing his hand to slip into hers during study hall.

 

All of this was happening because Ruby had pushed the two together at every chance she got. She had befriended Brook long before Weiss had even spotted him, and once Ruby figured out he spoke German and had an affection for Weiss, it was almost like she could see the stars align right in front of her.

 

It was the sort of thing that made her, Blake, and Yang positively thrilled. Maybe a little bit jealous, too? Ruby thought Yang and Blake might have been a little envious. She just wanted her friend to be happy for a bit. Ruby had heard far too many half-finished stories of the unhappy Schnee household. Maybe having this little bit of escapism here in California beyond Beacon would make her life better.

 

* * *

 

 

Lights out seldom meant _lights out,_ at least in Yang and Blake's room. They went to their bunks, of course, but the darkness was often filled with conversations on philosophy and life. Discussions of changes they could have made that day, their mistakes and triumphs, illuminated the night in a way that no light ever could.

 

Tonight was no different. Yang could hear Blake shifting around in her bed, probably rolling herself over to set her eyes towards Yang.

“Yang,” Blake asked, quietly so not as to alert the fire watch, “what made you pick Armor?”

They had settled their branch choices long before coming to Beacon, but periodical check-ups and adviser meetings with the Commandant and his staff ensured they were still happy with their picks, as well as allowing them to change if they so wanted. Initially, Yang had wanted to join the artillery, but now she had updated her choice. Armor was the first pick, and if that wasn't possible or the Armor Board deemed they had enough officers, then she had picked out Aviation for second choice and Air Defense for final choice.

 

“I dunno,” Yang responded, staring at a ceiling she could barely see. “Dad told me he was happy as long as I wasn't infantry. Uncle Qrow just wanted me to stay away from Special Forces.”

“Because of what happened to your mom?”

“Yeah. They never said it outright, but I knew. I think Dad was thrilled when I told him I was switching to Armor.”

“Reasonable, I guess.”

 

“Why'd _you_ pick Armor?” Yang asked.

“Dad was a tanker in Vietnam with the Marines, and Mom was a mechanic for one of the Marine armored divisions. _Ojiisan_ didn't work with tanks much outside of battle, but he liked being around them. Guess it just runs in the family.”

“Your parents were Marines? Cool. I didn't know that.”

“I thought I'd told you?”

Yang shook her head, before remembering it was pitch-black and Blake probably couldn't see her. “Nah, I don't remember it.”

 

Silence. Had Blake fallen asleep already? That was weird. Between them, she usually stayed up later.

“Hey, Yang,” Blake asked again, killing the silence. “Do...do you mind if I ask what happened with your mom?”

Yang frowned. “She died in Vietnam, you know that.”

“No, sorry, I mean your _actual_ mom. Not Ruby's mom.”

 

Raven Branwen. It was...hard to imagine her as _mom._ More like just the person who gave Yang life. Yang didn't have many memories of her mother, given Raven flipped between deployments in Vietnam and living with friends while she and Dad were in the middle of their divorce.

 

That, and her defection to the People's Republic of China kind of made it hard to have a positive impression of her.

 

“Uh, well,” Yang muttered, “I….I don't really know the full story. All I know is, sometime after Vietnam, she...decided she had enough of the West, of America, and defected to China. Became a communist, just like that. I haven't seen her since.”

“Oh,” Blake said weakly. “That...I'm sorry. When was it?”

“I dunno. I was pretty young. Maybe when I was, like, six?”

 

“That's rough,” Blake concluded, shifting around again.

“Yeah,” Yang agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaune had one good thing going for him this semester. Surprising himself, most of his friends, and even a few sergeants, he had an affinity for languages.

 

At least, unless he was being tutored by Weiss.

 

Given it _was_ her native tongue, she was immediately conscripted by the German professor, Colonel House, to help tutor students in German alongside the other civilian tutors. Granted, the other tutors were also native speakers, but their schedules and a cadet's schedule often interfered. Weiss was the only tutor who could be consistently relied upon during hours the other tutors were unavailable.

 

Even though Jaune knew full well that Weiss was spoken for, that didn't really stop him from using the tutoring sessions to ask in limited German about her, as well as try his hand at flirting from time to time. She brushed him off most of the time, focusing on helping him learn. So far, Jaune didn't mind it.

 

“ _Was studieren Sie?”_ Weiss asked, running through a rote table of phrases for an upcoming oral exam.

“ _Ich studiere Gesichter,”_ Jaune replied. History was technically his major, until he found something he felt would be more applicable or sparked his interest more.

Weiss stared at him, furrowing her brow. “You study _faces?_ Are you serious?”

“Huh? No, I said history.”

“ _Geschichte_ is history, _Gesichter_ is faces,” she corrected, though to Jaune, they sounded the same.

“Isn't that what I said, _Gesichter?”_

“Yes, that's the problem, that's _exactly_ what you said. Unless you mean to tell me Beacon now offers degrees in face-studying.”

 

“Sorry, I guess,” Jaune apologized. “I'll try to get it right.”

“No,” Weiss said. “You _will_ get it right. You can't just mix these two words up, this is easy.”

“Yeah, I guess. I'm still learning.”

“Learning _nothing._ Not even a child gets this mixed up. Now, let's go back to conjugation. You need to work on informal and formal conjugating.”

 

_Here we go_. Another hour with Weiss lecturing him on how to conjugate.

 

* * *

 

 

“And, uh, one more thing before you're all dismissed for the day,” the Captain announced. “New sergeants, be sure to sign up for slots for NCO School. We've got a lot of slots open for winter course, but if you do summer course, you can't help us during our next Induction Week in the spring. We'll need all hands on deck this year, lot of new inductees coming in. See First Sergeant Adel on how to sign up. Dismissed.”

 

The formation disbanded, heading off to their rooms to collect bags, go to breakfast, or mill about before the beginning of the business day. The news of NCO School had unmistakeable implications. Now that they were all being promoted, and with Yang, Blake, Ruby, Jaune, Pyrrha and Nora set to join the Sergeant's Club after spring's Induction Week, their teams would have to be broken up eventually. The quarterly reviews with the First Sergeant and Captain indicated RWBY and JNPR had done well together, far exceeding most squads in Bravo, or even most others across all companies.

 

As Captain Holden put it, it was a crying shame that these two squads would have to be separated. After all, it didn't make any sense to have a squad of purely Sergeants – who would be calling the shots?

 

But, that was in the future. For now, they still remained a team, and the bonds that Yang, Blake, Ruby and Weiss had made wouldn't be broken anytime soon. Each woman had seen the other at her worst, her best, and everything in between. They had said to one another at different points and under different circumstances, that should the worst come to pass and the Russians were invading Germany, not one of them would have a problem picking up a rifle and following the other into combat. They trusted each other innately, quite literally willing to die for each other.

 

Ruby would have had it no other way.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, you guys hear about this Nintendo thing?” Yang asked, reading the morning paper on her hunt for a current event to talk about during Colonel Port's class.

“No, what about it?” Blake replied.

“Says here,” Yang said, reading from the paper, “that its sold out entirely in New York. Guess they were running a test launch there.”

“Okay, cool,” Blake said, “but what _is_ the thing?”

“Oh, yeah, they're like, calling it an 'entertainment system', whatever that is. S'got like, eighteen games or something you can get for it.”

“What do you even _do_ with it?” Weiss asked.

 

Yang shrugged. “I guess just play the games it's got? Article says something about a bike-racing game, golf, pinball, tennis, and some puzzle things. I dunno.”

“Well,” Weiss opined, “that sounds like a _massive_ waste of time.”

“I dunno, it could be neat,” Ruby said. “How much is it? Does it say?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yang responded. “$199.99.”

“Are you _serious?!_ ” Blake shouted, nearly choking on her bagel. “That's crazy!”

 

“Yeesh, yeah, that's expensive. I hope it goes down.”

“Or, even better,” Weiss said, “maybe this ludicrous price will stop anyone from ever wanting to buy one, and this Nimtendo will go out of business entirely.”

“Nintendo,” Yang corrected.

“ _Whatever!_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

_“_ _Corey Hart at Number 24 moving from 31, third week in our survey, it's his sixth Top 40 hit, and it's called 'I Am By Your Side.”_

Casey Kasem's American Top 40 was a routine in Yang and Blake's room, always on whenever Yang was studying. She considered the music a good distraction, but made sure to keep it at a reasonable level. Blake had complained earlier in the semester that Kasem's DJing and the music made it impossible to concentrate, so for now, playing it softly was an acceptable compromise.

_“..._ _we're counting down now on American Top 40 to the latest hit by the band Toto, their first hit with their newest member, Joe Williams._ _The son of a famous Oscar-winning composer!”_

Music from Star Wars began blasting from the radio. Huh. That was a neat fact. Blake didn't know Toto had signed him on.

 

More music, more factoids, and commercials. Blake tuned it out as much as she could, trying to ignore it as she struggled over Arabic. Across the room, she could hear Yang tapping or humming along with the music, interjecting comments or criticisms on Kasem, usually demanding he shut up about anecdotes and get back to the music.

 

_“_ _We heard them back at Number 35 with their latest hit, 'Hip to Be Square'...”_

“I swear to God,” Yang said, interrupting Kasem, “if it's fucking _Stuck with You_...”

“... _here they are with a song that's spent three weeks at number one! 'Stuck with You', Huey Lewis and The News!”_

Huey Lewis and The News' smooth guitar filled the air, replaced just as quickly by Yang screaming.

“I'M GOING TO THROW THIS RADIO OUT THE GODDAMN WINDOW!” Yang shouted, already kicking her chair back to act upon her threat.

“Yang, no, not the radio!”

 

It was too late. Yang had already thrown open the window, and launched the radio through it, sending Huey Lewis' voice away until it became distant. Seconds later, the unmistakeable sound of plastic hitting concrete cascaded across the pavilion. Blake flinched. Surely, someone had to have seen or heard that. Right?

 

“Who the fuck is throwing radios out here?!” someone below their room shouted back up.


	21. December, 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weiss returns home to West Germany for winter break. Yang helps Uncle Qrow with packing up some things, and learns something new in the process.

Weiss didn't much enjoy being at home.

 

She was definitely not thrilled being home after hearing from John.

 

He had called her barely even fifteen minutes ago, using what little hard-earned money he had to tell Weiss that he may be in the hospital soon. He was sparse with details, but only told her that his stomach bug, an issue he had contracted during finals week, had taken a turn for the worse, and his usual medication wasn't helping. What John initially declared to be a stress-related incident now could have far-reaching effects for not just his health, but for his military career as well.

 

It made an incredibly depressing month at home even worse.

 

Like usual, Mom was nowhere to be seen, probably in Bavaria conducting business about this time of year. Father, like always, kept the house frigid, a stark contrast to what she was now used to in California. Father and Winter didn't seem to mind the cold, but it just annoyed Weiss. She practically had to put on her heaviest coats just to survive in the house, not to mention stack all of the blankets she could find on top of herself at night.

 

Of course, none of this made her worry for John any better. She felt terrible, wanting to complain about conditions at home when he could by now be in a hospital, scared and alone. From what he had told her, his family wasn't anywhere near as indifferent as hers, but she had never met his parents, and couldn't get a read on them.

 

That in mind, it surprised her that she was now standing in front of Father, seeking comfort from him. She knew that he had never been one for sentimentality in the past, doubly so now that she had come home with word she had a boyfriend in California. _“Not even a good German boy,”_ he lamented when she landed at _Flughafen Bremen._ Weiss had confessed everything to him now, expressing her extreme worry that something may happen to John in the hospital, and she was helpless to do anything about it.

 

But so far, Father hadn't said a word, just reading that same book as she nearly broke down in tears in front of him.

 

“Hmm,” Father said, turning a new page in his book. “He should have gone to the doctor sooner, then.”

“What?” Weiss asked. “How can you say something like that?!”

Father sighed, and he put his book down to stare at Weiss with indifferent eyes. “Should I assume you've made no progress on cleaning your room, then?”

“Ex- _cuse_ me?” Weiss said.

“Weiss, you cannot just treat this house as a hotel for when that _inferior_ school takes a break. You must maintain appearances, darling.”

 

Weiss groaned in frustration, making an escape. She didn't want to talk to Father right now, not while he was being like this. Weiss roamed the empty halls of the Schnee estate, hurt, angry, confused, and even sadder than she was before. Eventually, she found her way to the library, covered from floor to ceiling in books. Winter was here, reading through an older copy Father kept of Erwin Rommel's _Infantry Attacks_. Winter spotted Weiss heading in, and waved to her, smiling.

 

“Winter,” Weiss said, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course,” Winter said, putting a bookmark in. “What's on your mind?”

Weiss took a deep breath, trying to hide her emotions. Tears began to fall on her face, and as she tried to form words, her voice grew higher-piched, cracking under the strain.

“You know John's had this stomach thing, right?”

“Yes...” Winter said cautiously, her smile quickly fading.

“I was talking to Father about it, and...and he has the _audacity_ to tell me he should have gone to the doctor sooner, and asked me _if I had cleaned my room._ ”

“He what?” Winter asked, in disbelief.

“I'm not thinking about that,” Weiss sobbed, bringing a hand to her face in a vain attempt to wipe away tears. “I can't possibly care about my room when John could be in trouble! I'm nearly nine thousand kilometers away, and he's in California, suffering!”

 

Winter said nothing, only rising from her chair to embrace Weiss. Weiss began to weep freely, her shoulders shuddering with each breath.

“Why does he hate me, Winter?” she asked in between loud sobs. “What did I do to him?”

“I don't know,” Winter said sadly, beginning to cry herself. “I don't know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Uncle Qrow's house in Sacramento was never much of a happy home. If one believed Dad's stories, it hadn't been truly cleaned since 1965, the year he had bought it. Deployments in Vietnam and a perpetual bachelor's lifestyle prevented him from having a _reason_ to keep it clean. Yang hadn't often asked Qrow why he stayed single, but the few times she strayed into the territory of his relationships, he cited “the war” as the root of his love life's issues.

 

Though, she never much believed that. The few horizontal surfaces he had in his house held mementos of the war, from medals he had earned to various pictures he either didn't have room for on the walls or just lacked the motivation to find a real solution for. On one wall in the living room hung a Mosin Nagant, captured from a Viet Cong soldier. Yang had checked the markings one day, and found them to be Chinese after conferring with Nora. In a closet, Qrow had kept every uniform he had ever worn, from his garrison uniform from Beacon to his dress greens, still fresh from his retirement. The walls themselves had photos of Vietnam, or what Yang assumed to be Vietnam. One picture had an officer standing in a trench with a cavalry hat atop his head. Another picture showed a shirtless Qrow smoking a cigarette, M16 in hand and without even a hat for head protection. Yet another was of Mom, Raven, Dad and Qrow, sitting in a barracks somewhere playing cards.

 

The entire _house_ seemed to remind Qrow of the war. It practically served as a living museum to one man's experience of the war, each exhibit hiding a long story that few ever heard. Yang had only heard them when Qrow got drunk enough to forget who he was talking to, calling out in a drunken stupor to long-dead comrades-in-arms and thinking Yang was somebody named Bruno.

 

Maybe it was a good thing Dad had asked her to come down here, then. Qrow had talked about moving closer to San Francisco for a long while, and had decided to go through some of his old things and box up some stuff. Lately, Yang had noticed that Qrow's drinking had just become worse, and coming up on the twenty-year anniversary of Mom's death probably didn't help his condition any. She suspected his trouble with drinking ever since she was old enough to know what alcohol was.

 

“You know,” Qrow said, taking a drink from his flask. “I reckon it's time I told you something, Yang.”

Yang looked up from her meal, a sordid affair of canned beans and hot dogs. Qrow was no all-star cook, that was for sure.

“Told me what?” Yang asked, unsure what was about to happen.

“You ever hear of the Green Beret Affair?”

She shook her head no. Was this a Vietnam thing? Qrow didn't often talk about Vietnam unprompted.

“So, a while after Kham Duc,” Qrow explained, “another SOG group got pictures of an ARVN agent meeting with North Vietnamese intel guys. The ARVN agent was one of _ours._ He was working with us, hell, I shook his hand a few times. Pretty decent guy, or so I thought.”

 

He shifted in his chair, relaxing more as he took another swig. “So, we arrested him. Interrogated him for a week. He admitted he was working with the VC, sold South Vietnam out. He never said it on record, but I know he was responsible for giving the NVA the intel that led to Kham Duc.”

 

“So...what happened?” Yang asked.

“Well, Raven and I were pissed off to high hell. We wanted to just kill him and be done with it. Your dad...he was battalion XO at the time, he didn't think we should. Said it went against our mission, our code. Our commander and the CIA spooks attached with us in Saigon met up, said killing him was the best option we had.”

 

“And...” Yang asked cautiously, “did you?” God, if the beans were unappealing before, they were positively sickening now.

“June 20th, '69. We took Chuyen to Nha Trang Bay, shot him in the head, and dumped the body in the South China Sea. Came back, told the ARVN that he had been sent on a one-way mission to test his loyalty. They bought it hook, line and sinker.”

“Who, uh, who's 'we'?” Yang asked. Did she really want to hear the answer?

“Me, Raven, and First Sergeant Gage. We thought we had covered our tracks, but Chuyen's handler, he decided he wasn't safe anymore, spilled it all to General Abrams. The General arrested him, me, Tai, your mother, and our commander Colonel Rheault.”

 

Yang's head began to spin. The smell of cheap, warm beans in red sauce was intoxicating. Her stomach felt like it was writhing itself into a knot. What the fuck was going on?

“Oh my God,” Yang said, barely able to comprehend what she was hearing. “What happened? Why...why aren't you in _jail_ right now?”

Qrow smiled bitterly. “Because the CIA never declassified the shit the Army prosecutors needed to get us imprisoned. Can't go forward with a seven-man court martial if you ain't got the evidence.”

“So why tell me all this? Is this some kind of weird pride thing for you?”

“No. If you're gonna be an officer, Yang, you're gonna make tough decisions. I don't feel shame for killing Chuyen. He was working with the enemy. I'd do it again, because he killed my family. He killed my friends. He might not have pulled the trigger, but he aided those who did.”

 

“And that makes it okay?” Yang demanded.

“Nope,” Qrow replied. “That's war, Firecracker. That's SOG.”

 

Yang's hands shook, and she struggled to put down her fork without causing a commotion. She slid the plate away, muttering something about how she wasn't hungry anymore and was going to go to bed. Qrow didn't seem to mind. She threw herself on the bed, which creaked heavily in protest. Rolling over, Yang stared at the popcorn ceiling, flanked by wood paneled walls that were last popular in 1966.

 

How the hell could she reconcile this? How could she possibly look at Uncle Qrow now, knowing that he had willingly participated in someone's murder? Had he pulled the trigger? He didn't ever say who did it. The suspects were him, Raven, and this 1SG. Gage. It would be easy to pin the blame on an unknown man, especially someone who Yang wasn't sure was even alive anymore or not.

 

But at that same time, it was equally easy to assign another crime to her mother, just one more damning act she'd have to answer for if – and when – Yang ever found her again. The one thing she never wanted to face nibbled at her, though, like a tiny dog that just didn't know when to quit.

 

What if Qrow had been the one to level that pistol at Chuyen's head, and threw him into the South China Sea? What if it had been his idea in the first place? What if this entire thing was his plot, something that he had come up with and convinced everyone else to go along with?

 

She was relieved that she didn't bear the Branwen name, but the fear of this getting out stuck with her. The entire school knew Qrow Branwen was her uncle. She had _bragged_ about it. _“My uncle's Special Forces,”_ she had said, far too often. “ _What did_ _ **your**_ _uncle do during the war?”_

 

God, it make her sick just to think about it. She wanted to turn back the clock and take back every word, never mention Qrow ever again.

 

And yet, the oath she had sworn rang in her head. _A Cadet does not lie._

 

But wasn't that what Qrow and Raven had done, when they killed Chuyen and told the ARVN that he had been sent on a one-way mission? Had they broken their oath, too, or was it okay if it was for a good cause? Where was the line?

 

Yang was afraid that, before her time at Beacon was done, she wouldn't find a good answer. She had done a good job of holding back her emotions on her way back from the table, but the more she thought about it, the less she was able to keep it in. Yang openly wept, trying to remember the hero her uncle used to be. Who the hell was this man, and what had he done with her beloved uncle?


	22. March, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby Rose gets asked out.

Now that most of them had earned promotions, and were no longer first-year underlings, the Class of 1988 could now express themselves more freely during the weekends. Previously, their uniform rotation had been BDUs from Monday to Thursday, with garrison uniforms mandatory for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. However, now that they had entered their second year of school, the restrictions had been lifted, and garrison uniforms were only required on Friday. Weekends were now “casual” days, where they were allowed to wear civilian clothes.

 

To a certain point, at least. Modesty control was implemented for the women, and offensive slogans and designs had been banned campus-wide for members of the Corps. Gang-affiliated dress was also banned, unsurprisingly. But, hey, they had the freedom now to be themselves, and not look like another cog in the machine. The women were even allowed to let their hair down, rather than keep it up in a bun or ponytail.

 

For men, shaving was still expected, and each man was inspected during the morning's formations to make sure they had shaved. Uniforms were also mandatory during the 5 am formation – there would be no disrespecting the flag or the Corps here. Second-year students and those who had performed well as Corporals were allowed to change out of their uniforms into civilian clothes once formation had ended, of course, but for those who had duties later in the day, the garrison uniform was expected to be worn.

 

Somewhat surprising the remainder of RWBY and JNPR, Ren and Weiss had opted not to attend NCO school during winter break, each citing a different nebulous reason. Ren claimed he wasn't ready, refusing to admit exactly what for, while Weiss shrugged off questions as “Schnee business.” For this, they hadn't participated in Induction Week, and would have to attend NCO school during the summer break. No option here – the delayed start was now mandatory for them.

 

Several new faces joined them, now that the Spring Induction Week had come and gone. They didn't mind. The only thing they now had to worry about was competing for slots. Only a few commissions were available, and even less if they wanted to stay together as a team into their military careers. Beacon was notorious for granting the fewest commissions, both individual and team alike. Some said earning a commission slot while at Beacon was almost like having a one-way ticket to a general's chair.

 

* * *

 

 

It was nice, finally having a Walkman. Ruby had received the red-colored cassette player for Christmas this year, a gift from Uncle Qrow. Her collection of tapes had now made its way to her dorm, and her bag was often overflowing with spare tapes and the few mixtapes she had found the chance to make in her spare time, and each hour she spent in the library and study hall was accompanied with at least twice as many hours of music.

 

Usually, her massive headphones stopped most people from talking to her. That, and she usually had her music cranked up so loudly she couldn't hear someone talk to her _anyway._ Therefore, it surprised her more than a little when she suddenly felt someone tapping on her shoulder. She lifted off her headphones and turned in her chair, seeing a fellow Corporal with a stack of books in one hand.

 

“Hi,” he said, “I'm Dixon Kinsley.”

“Uh, hi,” Ruby said, “I'm Ruby Rose.”

Kinsley set the books down, sitting next to her. “So, uh, you're in my history class, right?”

“I don't know,” Ruby replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Am I?”

“11 AM? In Murphy Hall?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ruby said, now that he had actually given her a time. “Yeah, what's up?”

 

Kinsley smiled, his face flush with red now. What was up with him? He scratched the back of his head, but Ruby didn't think there really _was_ anything to scratch at, not with his buzzcut.

“Well, it's just I've been seeing you all the time during class, and you seem like you get this a lot better than I do. I was wondering if you'd be able to help me out?”

“Oh, sure!” Ruby said. “What d'you need help with? I'm real good with the World Wars, and the Civil War, too!”

Kinsley chuckled, sliding over a book to her. “I was wondering if you'd actually be able to help me out with the Mexican-American War?”

“Huh, I...don't actually know much about that. Well, I guess we can study together, then!”

 

And thus, they studied. Ruby learned far more about the Mexican-American War than she ever thought she'd need to know, especially since they weren't even covering the war in their unit yet. And yet, she couldn't help but get the sneaking feeling that Kinsley wasn't nearly as invested as she in learning about the war.

 

Eventually, he put down his pencil, and folded his arms on the table, staring at Ruby. She had no choice but to return his stare, wondering what he wanted.

“Alright, I can't keep up this charade any longer.”

“Yes?”

“I didn't really come over here to study the Mexican-American War with you. I'd like to take you out to dinner Friday night, Ruby.”

 

Ruby's brain momentarily short-circuited, and she blinked several times before his smile faded, and he waved his hand in front of her to make sure she hadn't somehow fallen asleep or something.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Ruby stuttered, trying to remember how to speak English for a moment. “I'm just – what?”

“I'm, uh, trying to ask you out,” he said, nervously laughing and rubbing the back of his head. “God, this is going terribly, isn't it?”

“No, no!” Ruby said, trying to assuage him. “I'm just...this has never happened to me before, is all! Yeah, of course, I'd love to go to dinner with you!”

 

His eyes lit up, and his smile grew wide. “Really? Oh, man, that's – great! Yeah! Thank you!”

“So, uh, where at?”

“Oh, right, uh...how about La Fantaisie?”

Ruby had never been to the local French place, but, hey, how bad could it be? It was just one dinner, right? “Okay! Uh, well, I gotta go, but I'll see you then, okay?”

 

Ruby packed up her things, heading to her next class as she and Kinsley said their goodbyes for the moment. Ruby's excitement – and nervousness – was palpable. She had never been on a real date before, much less at a French restaurant. _A real date._ How exciting!

 

* * *

 

 

Ruby's first stop for the news was Pyrrha's room, where like usual, Jaune, Ren and Nora also hung out as they studied. Ren answered the door, probably expecting someone else.

“Oh, hello Ruby,” he said, “come on in. What brings you here?”

“PyrrhaPyrrhaPyrrhaPyrrhaPyrrha!” Ruby shouted, running into her and Jaune's shared room. “Guess what happened!”

“Uh,” Pyrrha said, “you aced your test?”

“No, that's next week, guess again!”

 

By now, Ren and Nora had headed over as well, standing in the doorway and curious as to Ruby's news that was so important she couldn't even look at them.

“Um,” Pyrrha guessed again, “you got a promotion to Sergeant?”

“No! Guess again!”

Pyrrha shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know then, Ruby. What is it?”

 

“I have a date on Friday!”

“Oh!” Pyrrha said, getting up to hug Ruby. “That's great, Ruby! With who?”

“His name is Dixon Kinsley,” Ruby said, “and he's….in my history class, I guess? I...don't know anything else about him.”

“Wait, hold on,” Ren said, stepping next to Ruby. “He's a Corporal, right?”

 

Ruby nodded. Ren sighed, shaking his head.

“Great. I know him, I would stay away if I were you, Ruby.”

“What?” Nora asked. “Why?”

“He's dated every woman in his company, and done nearly everything he can to get more out of them. He's a serial womanizer, Ruby, and you deserve better.”

“Wait, yeah,” Jaune added. “I've met this guy too. He was in my chemistry class last semester. Kept talking about how he wanted to get with First Sergeant Adel.”

 

“Well,” Ruby said, trying and failing to find a positive quality for him, “maybe he'll be different with me! We don't know...”

“Hold on, you two,” Pyrrha interjected, “who are you to decide who Ruby should and shouldn't date? Ruby, have you told Yang yet?”

“No, I was going to after I told you.”

“Well, then,” Pyrrha said, “let's go get the good news to her.”

 

In a huff, Pyrrha led Ruby out of her dorm, and straight to Ruby's dorm room, where Yang, Weiss and Blake were already present, hard at work studying. Oddly enough, Ruby didn't see Yang's radio anywhere. Had she still not replaced it?

 

“Ruby,” Pyrrha announced, “let them know the good news!”

Weiss poked her head into Yang and Blake's side of the room, as the latter two turned around to see what news Ruby had for them.

“Well,” Ruby stammered, “I have a date on Friday.”

Yang squealed in excitement, tacking Ruby to the floor in a loving embrace. “I'm so happy! Tell me all about them! Come on, you're gonna look _so damn good_ for this date!”

As Yang tossed her sister onto a waiting chair, rifling through her cabinets to find makeup for Ruby, Pyrrha stood off to the side as Weiss came into the room fully.

“So, a date, huh?” Weiss commented. “I hope he's taking you somewhere nice, at least.”

“Hey, we don't discriminate here,” Yang interrupted, “could be a she, for all we know. Is it a she?”

“No,” Ruby replied, smiling. “His name is Dixon Kinsley, and he's taking me to _La Fantaisie_.”

 

“The French place?” Blake asked. “That sounds...high-class for a first date.”

“Wait a second, Dixon Kinsley, from Alpha Company?” Weiss asked, suddenly combative now. “ _That_ scumbag?!”

“Oh, not you too,” Pyrrha moaned. “What's _your_ issue with Kinsley?”

“He tried to proposition me for _lewd_ acts,” Weiss said, “when he knew full well I'm dating John.”

 

“Wait, hold the fucking truck here,” Yang said, clutching makeup brushes and palettes in her hands, “who is this guy? What do _you_ know about him, Ruby?”

“All he told me was that he was in my history class,” Ruby said, shrugging.

“He's a _pervert_ , is what he is!” Weiss shouted.

“Oh please, you're exaggerating,” Pyrrha shot back.

 

“Wait, so do I have to punch him or not?” Yang asked.

Silently, and as Weiss, and Pyrrha's shouting grew ever louder, Blake led Ruby out of her and Yang's room, and into Ruby's room, having her sit on her bed. Blake drew up a chair, and sat down on it opposite of her.

 

“What do _you_ think of this guy, Ruby?” Blake asked, ignoring the shouting coming from the other room.

“I dunno,” Ruby said, holding her knees. “I just met him a couple hours ago.”

“Well, do you like him?”

Ruby shrugged. “I dunno. He seemed nice.”

 

“Okay,” Blake said. “That's good. But what do you think of _him?_ How'd you two meet?”

Ruby thus recounted how Kinsley had approached her and they studied each other, until which point he had revealed his ruse and asked her out with barely any forewarning. Blake nodded along, asking questions where she was confused or to shed more light on the scene. After Ruby had finished, Blake rested her head on her knuckles, deep in thought.

 

“So, he wanted to study with you, and then just asked you out like that?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I was pretty flattered, really!”

“And this is, like, the first guy who's asked you out here, right?”

“Well, unless you count Jimmy in the fourth grade, but his parents didn't let us do anything.”

Blake's jaw hung agape as she stared at Ruby. “You…you've never dated _anyone_ since the fourth grade?”

“I mean, like I said, his parents didn't let us do any-”

 

“Yeah, I heard that,” Blake said, waving her hand back and forth to shut Ruby up. “You're...you're gonna be _so lost,_ Ruby. Oh my god, this might be a disaster.”

“Huh?” Ruby asked, tilting her head. “Whaddya mean?”

“Hold on,” Blake said, getting up and heading into the next room. The shouting from the other room was still raging on, loud as ever.

 

“ _HEY!_ ” Blake yelled. “Stop fucking yelling at each other and listen to me for five seconds!”

Ruby didn't hear what came next, but could tell that Blake was talking to them, and not long after, Weiss, Pyrrha, Yang and Blake marched back into Ruby's room, lining up in front of her.

 

“Okay,” Blake said, “here's what's going to happen, Ruby. Yang's going to help you find your look. Pyrrha's going to take you shopping tomorrow to get some new clothes. Weiss and I are going to teach you _everything_ you'll need to know to not look like a complete doofus on this date. Got it?”

“Wait,” Ruby protested, “what's wrong with what the clothes I have now? Why do I need all this?”

“Sis,” Yang said, “your idea of 'fashion' is an Eagles concert shirt and jeans you've been wearing for six years. You're going to _La Fantaisie,_ for crying out loud, they'd laugh you out the door if you showed up in that.”

“Acting ladylike is _vital,_ ” Weiss lectured, “ _especially_ at _La Fantaisie_. And, Ruby, if I may be blunt...you're not exactly the most ladylike.”

“Trust us, Ruby,” Blake said. “We're doing all of this to help you. This is a super-fancy place with a guy you only have one shot to impress, even if _some of us_ are less than enthused about him. You've already got one foot in the door because he's asked you out, but if you really like him? You have to knock it out of the park _here._ ”

 

Ruby collapsed on the bed, already exhausted even though they had scarcely begun. “I'm not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope,” they said in unison.

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken up the better part of the week leading up to Friday, but Yang had successfully managed to find the matching makeup that made Ruby look her best. Pyrrha had helped her find, and even paid for half of, a new red wrap dress, the design of the cut highlighted with stark black bindings. Weiss and Blake, after much frustration and tantrums from both Ruby and Weiss, had managed to instill in Ruby everything she needed to look prim and proper at the French dinner table, as well as proper ladylike behavior once she and her date had left the restaurant.

 

The team looked Ruby over, and increasingly Ruby felt more and more like an animal in a zoo rather than a person. She _liked_ the dress, for sure, but wasn't sure whether she'd ever wear it again after today. Likewise, her new ruby red high heels just made her feet hurt and nearly impossible to walk with, even with all the practice she had.

 

“Did we do well, team?” Yang asked, gushing over Ruby for the hundredth time that day.

“Oh, we did well, alright,” Blake said, nodding.

A knock came at the door. That was Dixon Kinsley, here to potentially rescue Ruby from further embarrassment by her so-called “friends'” hands, or maybe he'd just make her night even worse and have all of this effort and money go to waste. It was kind of up in the air at this point.

 

His breath was literally taken away by Ruby, and for a split second, she felt like she belonged in these clothes, these shoes.

“Listen up, buddy,” Yang said, clenching a fist at Dixon, “you better make sure she has the _best night of her goddamn life_ , do you hear me? My dad and my uncle are Special Forces, and they're _nothing_ compared to me if she comes home hurt.”

And just like that, it came crashing down as Yang was already threatening Dixon. Not the best of impressions.

“Uh,” Dixon stuttered, trying to find bravery. “Y-yeah, got it. Ha-ha, I'll be sure to make it a good evening, yup.”

 

_“_ _No innuendo!”_ Weiss warned.

“Y-yup, no innuendo here, just good, clean fun at a fancy French place, _heyRubyareyoureadytogoyetIsuream!_ ”

Ruby finally was allowed to leave with Dixon, and together the two headed to La Fantaisie, thankfully only a ten-minute walk from campus. On the way there, they talked about what they'd like to eat, though neither of them really had much idea of what the restaurant actually served, and both wildly speculated based on their limited knowledge of French cuisine.

 

La Fantaisie definitely _looked_ like a French restaurant. The male staff all wore black tuxedos, and the women were dressed in black pencil dresses, with matching elbow-length gloves and brilliant white pearls adorning their necks. Soft French classical music played over the speakers, and the entire restaurant was dimly lit, candles on each table.

 

Ruby and Dixon approached the hostess's station, where a woman stood behind the podium. Her long brunette hair was done up in a ponytail that nearly went halfway down her back, with immaculate makeup highlighting every feature of her face with barely even one thing out of place.

“ _Bonjour,”_ the hostess said, her French accent trickling into her speech, “my name is Amélie, do you have a reservation, _monsieur?_ ”

“Yes, under Kinsley.”

“Mhm, Kinsley, party of two. If _monsieur et madame_ will follow me?”

Amélie showed them to a table, situated in the middle of the floor, and nary more than just two wooden chairs, a table with a snow white tablecloth covering it, and the aforementioned candles, already lit for them. She and a waiter assisted them into the seats (not that Ruby really believed they needed it) and placed menus before them, promising to bring water later.

 

The two spent far more time than strictly necessary trying to decipher the menu, half of which was written in French, and the English translations left much to be desired. As promised, the waiter (whose name was Benoit) brought them water, and stood by, bored as they decided what to finally order.

“I can't decide,” Ruby said to Benoit, “what does the chef recommend?”

Benoit's eyes lit up, and he rattled off a list of dishes that the chef particularly liked, explaining each one in exquisite detail, in both English and French, that Ruby couldn't hope to follow. She scanned the menu for each one, and then picked the beef bourguignon at random.

“Excellent choice, _madame. Et pour monsieur?_ ”

Dixon, meanwhile, discarded all advice and recommendations from Benoit, boldly folding the menu and looking Benoit directly in the eyes.

“I'll have the _niçoise,_ medium-well please.”

As the waiter took the menu from Dixon, he leaned in close, and said to him, “The _niçoise_ is a salad, _monsieur,_ which the chef prefers to serve quite raw. But, I am sure he will take _monsieur's_ request under consideration.”

 

It went, as they say, all downhill from there. Ruby didn't speak French, but she could easily hear the barely-contained guffaws from the kitchen when Benoit headed in with their orders. Loud French came out too, and the waitstaff all exchanged words in French when they paused by their table in passing. Poor Dixon couldn't live it down if he tried. He shut down entirely, so focused on his image he couldn't find the time to talk to Ruby about himself, or ask her anything.

 

It didn't help that, when they returned to Amélie's podium to pay, she continued to spread the word.

“Ah, Henri!” she said, allowing him to kiss her on the cheeks as a greeting. The two conversed in French for a while, and as she handled their money, she pointed to Dixon. “ _C'est celui qui a ordonné le niçoise moyen-bien, pouvez-vous le croire?”_

Ruby didn't need to speak French to figure out what she was telling him about. She also didn't need to know it to figure out why Henri had immediately begun laughing.

_“_ _Qui commande une salade cuite, beaucoup moins bien moyenne?”_

The two continued laughing as Amélie returned change to Dixon, wishing them a good night.

 

Dixon remained silent as they walked back to the barracks, simply wishing her a good evening and regretful that he had been unable to give her a better night.

 

Ruby wasn't sure he'd be getting a second date, not if he locked himself away this easily.


	23. April-May, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field exercises, heartbreak, and international news are the talk of the barracks these months.

Weiss's loud wailing could be heard through the entire barracks. At this point, who could blame her?

 

As quickly as their romance had started, John and Weiss's spark faded, to the point where John had abruptly come to the barracks, informing Weiss that he had fallen out of love with her. The two exchanged many an angry word in German, probably arguing over what he thought he was doing and why he had decided to only tell her _now_ if he had felt this way since February.

 

It ended with Weiss shouting at him, “ _"Der Tod vor der Schande" erstreckt sich offenbar nicht auf mich! Geh zurück zu Echo Company und lass deinen Leutnant dich auf eine Kopfwunde untersuchen!”_ followed just as quickly by her throwing every memento he had ever given her out, assaulting John as he retreated out of the room.

 

And then, when the dust settled, she began crying, lamenting the loss of the one man who had seen past her family name and saw her for a _person._ Ruby, Blake and Yang did all they could to help their friend, but ultimately it was for naught. Weiss pushed even them away, locking herself away in the dorm and only leaving for classes, formations, and duties that had been assigned to her.

 

It seemed none of them were particularly lucky with love lately.

 

* * *

 

 

People didn't often knock on their door. More often than not, if they knew Ruby, Yang, Weiss or Blake, they'd just head right in and go straight to whoever they needed to talk to. Sergeants and officers only knocked on doors if they needed to announce something that didn't dictate calling the entire company to formation.

 

That's why it surprised Ruby when she opened the door to find a fellow Corporal on the other side, looking increasingly desperate with the passing second.

“Hey,” he said, “wanna take over retreat duty for me tonight? I made plans, but First Sarge gave me duty anyway.”

“Uh,” Ruby stuttered, trying to find an appropriate response.

“Come on,” the Corporal pleaded, “you get to fire the 75 and everything, just get me off this!”

“I...I don't know if I should,” Ruby said. The offer was good, yeah, and she'd love to handle the pack howitzer they used for reveille and retreat, but she didn't know how to handle switching duty spots with someone.

 

“Dammit,” he muttered, producing a wallet from a back pocket. “You want money? I can pay you twenty bucks to take it from me.”

He waved a crinkled $20 bill in her face, as if the green would entice her to take it. She stared at the bill for a moment. Who did this guy think she was? Working with the 75 or not, she wouldn't be _bribed_ to take his duty. It didn't feel right to her. It felt against the oath she had sworn.

“Sorry, no, I don't want your money,” Ruby said. “I can't take retreat duty from you.”

“Fuckin'….alright, fine,” he said, heading off to find someone else to take his duty.

 

Ruby closed the door, and turned around to see Yang who had overheard the entire thing, her headphones hanging around her neck.

“What was that about?”

“Someone wanted me to take retreat duty from him,” Ruby explained. “Wanted to pay me to do it.”

“Woah,” Yang said, “are you really Ruby Rose? The same girl who knows everything about the M16, M240, M1911 and every single cannon on campus, _doesn't_ want to do shit with the 75? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

 

Ruby grinned, heading back into her room. “Very funny, Yang. It just didn't feel right, is all.”

Yang nodded, smiling back. “Yeah, guess that makes sense. But seriously though, you're feeling alright, yeah?”

“Yes, Yang, I'm feeling fine.”

Yang smirked, putting her headphones back on. “Just checking, sis.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Jesus, is this real?”

 

The evening news was on loop, with the entire campus on alert. For what, nobody could really say. They probably wouldn't be called up for service, First Sergeant Adel said, not unless the Russians decide to cross into Germany. It had been ten days since news broke of a discotheque in West Germany being bombed, causing the death of two American soldiers. The discotheque, a known hangout for American servicemen in Germany, was bombed early in the morning and wounded nearly 250 others. Weiss had cried all day when she heard the news, trying to figure out from Winter if the list of suspects included Germans.

 

Today, they were now hearing news that the USAF was bombing Libya. President Reagan had gone on the air to explain what they were doing, and why. All of this was a punitive action, intended to discourage the Libyans from supporting more attacks on American interests. Already, news was flooding in that the UN had condemned the strike as “violating international law.” The Soviets likewise had also condemned the US for taking action.

 

None of it made sense to Ruby. They had killed _Americans._ Soldiers of the US Armed Forces. How could anyone deny them justice? Did the world think that the dead and wounded were not worth reminding the Libyans that their actions had consequences?

“And so it goes again,” Blake commented, watching Reagan speak.

 

* * *

 

 

If the news of America's bombing campaign against Libya shook Beacon's campus, the news of Chernobyl was like an earthquake. Once more, they had gathered around the sole television in the barracks, watching Ted Koppel describe stoically the accident at a far-away place called Chernobyl.

 

_“_ _There is some news coming from the Soviet Union tonight,_ _**some** _ _but not much...”_

“Oh my God,” Weiss muttered, as a graphic came on showing the classic Soviet hammer and sickle overlaid on an atom molecule, with the ever-deadly words 'nuclear accident' below it.

_“…._ _Kiev is roughly 60 miles from the site of today's nuclear accident. According to these reports, all bus service in the city of Kiev has been stopped, so that the buses can be used to evacuate those in the disaster area.”_

 

“This is insane,” Blake said, her face ashen white. “What the hell happened?”

Her words were one of many as other cadets in Bravo and other companies whispered speculation and asked questions, some trying to remember from their geography classes where Kiev was.

_“_ _...there is word that radiation from the Soviet accident could, within a week or so, make its way over the North Polar region to the Western United States. The effect of such radiation,_ _**if** _ _it reaches the United States, would almost certainly be very minor indeed.”_

 

Unfortunately, the last part of Koppel's words was lost on most cadets. Panic spread quickly, with sergeants and lieutenants trying and failing to reestablish order as the lower ranks desperately tried to find out what they were going to do. The entire barracks was nearly rioting.

 

“ _COMPANY! ATTEN-_ _ **SHUN!**_ ”

First Sergeant Adel's words instantly shut the barrack's up as each cadet reverted to their baser instincts and stood at attention, waiting for further instruction.

“Captain Augenburg, the floor is yours, sir,” Adel said, stepping aside to let the captain speak.

“Now hear this, ladies and gentlemen,” Captain Augenburg said, pacing back and forth. “There is virtually no threat posed to us by the Soviet Union and their radiation. If there _was_ one, we'd already be rolling across Soviet Europe right now, on a hellmarch to Moscow. Because we _aren't_ , everything's going to be _fine._ Do you understand that?”

 

“Sir, yes, sir!”

 

* * *

 

 

The oppressive air of radioactive threats and the USAF's bombing runs on Libya remained on campus until the end of the month. For the first time since arriving at Beacon, Weiss called out sick for a week's worth of formations and classes, intensely panicked about the consequences the Chernobyl accident would have on Germany. She applied all of the mathematical and meteorological knowledge she possessed to try and guess where the winds would take Chernobyl's radiation, ultimately predicting that sooner rather than later, radiation would spread to Germany.

 

This grim breakthrough had consequences of its own.

 

Ruby wasn't averse to the dark, but it was still odd to see her and Weiss's room enshrouded in darkness before nine. Blake and Yang both had their own night duties this evening – Blake on fire watch, Yang with desk duty up front – and thus there was no way to tell how long the room had been like this.

“Weiss?” Ruby asked, stepping into her room and flicking the light on.

 

As light flooded into the room, Ruby saw Weiss's terrified face first.

 

And then she saw the knife.

 

There was no blood – not yet, anyway – but Weiss held the knife at her own throat, the blade dangerously close to her skin. They weren't allowed knives in their rooms – she must have snuck this out during dinner. Maybe she hid it in her handbag or something.

“W-Weiss,” Ruby cautiously said, “w...what're you doing?”

The German stared back at Ruby, eyes glazed over as if she was no longer in control of herself. What felt like years but was probably actually minutes later, Weiss finally answered her.

“I'm sorry.”

The entire time, the knife hovered near her neck, and it was taking everything in Ruby not to charge forward and knock the weapon out of her hand. But, fear paralyzed her. What happened if she missed? What if Weiss mistook her act of protection as a threat, and would be compelled to turn the knife against Ruby? What if moving towards her would trigger Weiss to cut herself, the very thing she sought to prevent?

 

The veritable Mexican standoff was interrupted by their door opening and then closing quickly.

“Sorry for waking you guys,” Yang said. “I forgot my wallet in here.”

Ruby was unable to take her eyes off of Weiss, afraid that if she turned, Weiss would be gone in an instant. Yang's footsteps approached the door, and then paused. Ruby could feel Yang step behind her, no doubt seeing the same picture.

Yang gasped quietly, then swallowed hard. Mustering far more courage than Ruby possessed, Yang crept towards Weiss, holding her hands out wide to show she meant no harm.

“Weiss,” Yang said quietly, “it's me, Yang. You, uh, you wanna put the knife down?”

 

Weiss's eyes turned to look at Yang, and as she got closer, she muttered, “ _Aus der Traum.”_

Finally, Weiss took the blade away from her neck, and let it fall to the floor. Without missing a beat, Yang took her foot and swept the knife away, then tackled Weiss to her bed.

 

“Jesus, you fucking idiot,” Yang said, “what the _fuck_ were you thinking?!”

“I'm sorry,” Weiss repeated. It seemed this was all she could say.

“Yang,” Ruby said, feeling tears stream down her face. “What do we do?”

Yang stared at Weiss, and then got off of her, grabbing the knife and looking like she had just fought a war in ten minutes. “We don't tell _anyone_ about this, is what we do.”

“What?”

“Weiss is _finished_ here if this gets out. Go to bed, Ruby. I'll take care of all this.”

 

Yang left the room with the knife in her hand, leaving Ruby and Weiss alone. What on Earth was she supposed to do _now?_

 

* * *

 

 

“Uh, yeah,” First Sergeant Adel said to them over the radio, “we have reports of an enemy machine gun team in that grid square. Keep watch on that bridge until further, out.”

 

Once again, they were out on brigade-level maneuvers, this time with elements of Rogue Platoon in play as OPFOR. Ren scanned the horizon with his binoculars, referencing the bridge that the First Sergeant was talking about. It looked like they had the high ground. At least, that's what Pyrrha thought.

 

“Alright,” Ren said after a few minutes. “Jaune, come with me. Let's do some recon near the bridge. Rest of you, stay here and keep that bridge in your sights. It's about four hundred meters away.”

“That's what,” Nora asked, fiddling with her sights, “like, five hundred yards?”

“Closer to four hundred and thirty,” Ren answered, readjusting his gear. “You really need to learn the metric system, Nora.”

“Hey, it's not _my_ fault nobody else uses metric.”

“You mean aside from the rest of the world?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah!”

 

Ren and Jaune took off, leaving the two of them – and a couple of the new class that Pyrrha had already forgotten the names of – alone on the ridge, overlooking a river and the concrete bridge that spanned it. Pyrrha had already adjusted her sights, even if it was just for the ritual of doing so. No actual bullets had been issued to them, but their magazines all held blank rounds. She felt that adjusting her sights anyway would remind her to do so in the field, if she ever needed to do so.

 

As an hour passed, the sound of birds, the occasional wind, and the crackling of the radio, punctuated by the occasional transmission, was all that could be heard.

 

That, and the soft _click – click_ of Nora's safety as she messed around with it, flipping it back and forth.

“You're going to break that thing if you don't stop,” Pyrrha warned, only half-joking.

“Nah,” she replied, “it's a 240B, thing's built like a tank.”

“Even tanks break down,” Pyrrha reminded her.

 

Nora ignored her, continuing to play with her weapon's safety. Ten minutes later, Ren ordered the rest of the squad to their position. First Sergeant Adel apparently had had enough of waiting around, and wanted to get the company back on the move. Within minutes, they had regrouped and were now heading to a forested area, ostensibly where further enemies had been spotted.

 

“Ugh, all this _walking_ ,” Nora complained. “I just want something to _happen_ already.”

“Don't you dare speak that voodoo into existence,” Jaune shot back almost immediately. “Hasn't anyone ever told you about not ruining the moment?”

“Jaune,” Ren said, “it's highly unlikely that, just by saying something, we'll now be under fire.”

“That's what I'm talking about!” Jaune groaned. “Great. Here we go, everyone.”

 

Pyrrha was about to contribute, when the sound of gunfire scattered them. Each member of the squad took a tree, peeking out to see if they could find their enemy. It was definitely close to them, that much was certain. Reports came flooding into their radio that other elements of the company were under assault, as merely six hundred meters to their left, the First Sergeant and her squad had been pinned down.

 

The two sides exchanged imaginary shots for what felt like hours, with Nora's machine gun the only real constant factor in the endless noise. When not firing, Nora remained content to hurl insults to the enemy, even though she couldn't see them.

_“_ _Cease fire!”_ someone shouted. _“Cease fire!”_

 

The smell of gunpowder was in the air as each side lowered their rifles, turned on safeties, and looked around, trying to find the source of the command. One of the Majors came around, congratulating Rogue Platoon for doing so well, but also criticizing Ren and his squad for not breaking contact sooner. He encouraged the two to greet one another, and put a face to their foes.

 

“Well, hey there, punks!”

It was Yang. She waved at them, heading straight to Pyrrha and Ren first.

“Jesus, Xiao Long,” Ren said, “how long were you guys tracking us?”

“We had your number when you got off the ridge,” she explained. “Shoulda stayed up there. We were gonna stay away as long as you guys held the high ground.”

 

Eventually, the brigade was ordered back home, with Ren kicking himself every step of the way. He lamented to anyone who would listen that he should have been more thorough in his recon – the first pass with Jaune hadn't revealed anything, and so he assumed the path was clear and that Rogue Platoon had withdrawn. Obviously, not the case.

 

Just another learning opportunity.

 

* * *

 

 

As the end of the month approached, Ruby, Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, Blake, and Yang each received a promotion to Sergeant, and with it, the opportunity to join Weiss and Ren for the summer NCO School. Another Induction Week was coming in August, a week before school opened, and with so many sergeants now receiving promotions to Lieutenant and above, there existed more than ever a need for a new generation of sergeants to lead.

 

It astounded most of them. Between Weiss's mental breakdown, Yang earning a demerit for nearly fighting another cadet, Jaune almost failing the company PT test, and Nora's overenthusiasm for handling every new weapon that crossed the MLI's stockroom, they had earned the promotions anyway. The Promotion Board had indicated nothing but good words for each of them, and marked Weiss and Ren down for even further potential if they kept up their “good work.”

 

Therefore, it was only logical when Ren, Nora, Blake, Weiss and Jaune were offered to stay at the Xiao Long home, and if room there was lacking, Uncle Qrow's house in Sacramento was opened up as well. Both were well within driving distance of Beacon, a small price to pay for not going home for the summer to learn everything about how to be a proper NCO.


	24. June-July, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teams all have their promotions to Sergeant, and now have to learn how to be proper NCOs for the incoming class.

It was like being back at Induction Week all over again.

 

Before any of them could put on their official Sergeant stripes, they had to endure every Sergeant First Class, First Sergeant, and Lieutenant from every company on campus berating, shouting, screaming, and punishing them as they drilled themselves and learned. The first lessons were solely on how to teach someone else how to march, followed quickly by how to give orders effectively and clearly, so that nothing could get lost in translation.

 

Perhaps even more importantly, they also discussed and impressed upon them what was strictly forbidden. No touching without permission. Hazing, either verbally or physically, was not to be allowed _ever_. The consequences were severe, potentially earning a dozen demerits for breaking any one of these rules, in a world where just having seven demerits would be grounds for being ejected from Beacon.

 

Much like Induction Week, they trained hard on drill, ceremony, basic rifle marksmanship, and made many a trip to the nearby Ranger Station to go through obstacle courses and gain confidence on things that had terrified them just two years prior. Ruby's portion of the training included becoming an expert – if she wasn't one already – on proper rappelling technique, owing to her membership in the Mountaineers. Yang was drilled to the breaking point by Rogue Platoon sergeants to clear rooms and, ultimately, become a sergeant every single new cadet should fear. Pyrrha, owing to the nursing and medical background she was aiming for, was taught everything a proper medic needed to know.

 

Of course, for those who hadn't joined any specialty units, the training was brutal, focused intensely on making sure they were doing everything right the first time, the fourth time, and the hundredth time.

 

Lieutenant Hardy held a loudspeaker to his face and following Weiss as she made her way through an obstacle course, saying, “What are you doing, Schnee? What are you doing, Schnee? What are you doing, Schnee? What are you doing, Schnee? What are you doing, Schnee? What are you doing, Schnee?”

This refrain continued for some time until she had negotiated her way through the obstacle, whereupon Hardy stood in front of her with the loudspeaker, blocking her path.

“Oh, I know what you're doing,” he said, “you're going back so you can do it again.”

Defeated, Weiss made her way back to the beginning of the obstacle, doing it again to please the Lieutenant.

 

This madness had a purpose, though. They quickly figured out (or, in Jaune and Ruby's case, were outright told) that the more stress they endured here, the more they could keep their bearing and do what they were told correctly each time. It was a requirement that need not be said – it was vital for each one of them to be able to do everything the new cadets were to do. After all, how could they foster confidence into the new recruits if they couldn't perform?

 

So, even with lieutenants imposing nigh-impossible demands, sergeants screaming in their ear 24/7, and with an air of overall _suck_ , they embraced it and worked as hard as they could.

 

* * *

 

 

_“_ _What's the technique?!_ ”

Jaune desperately tried to do pullups, and was rapidly failing at it. But, he wasn't alone – Ruby was in the same boat.

“This is the technique, Sergeant!” Jaune shouted.

“That doesn't look like a technique to me! Looks more like you're just throwing yourself around! How are you going to be a Sergeant if you can't show your soldiers how to do it right, Arc?”

 

On Ruby's left, a lieutenant approached.

“Sergeant Rose!”

“Yes, sir!”

“I hear word you're pretty good with weapons, is that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

He nodded, and then examined her pullup technique closely.

“How's about this,” he said, “tell me about the M1909.”

 

Wait. Was this a trick question? There was more than one thing known as the M1909.

“Sir,” she asked, struggling to do another pullup, “do you mean the French light machine gun or the 14-inch coastal gun?”

“Good answer. Tell me about the French one.”

“Sir,” Ruby answered, “the M1909 Benét–Mercié light machine gun is a gas-operated, air-cooled weapon fed by a 30-round feed strip commonly firing 8mm Lebel or 30-06 Springfield ammunition, sir!”

“Now tell me about the M60,” he said.

“Sir, the M60 gas-operated, belt-fed machine gun which fires 7.62mm NATO ammunition up to eleven hundred meters away, sir!”

 

“Good job,” he said, walking away. Had she impressed him? There was no real way to tell.

 

* * *

 

 

The only real relief they had during these hellish months was being able to have actual food at the end of the day, instead of being restricted to MREs only as some had speculated. After each day, they were battered, bruised, drained, and just _exhausted_ after going through every course, doing everything a dozen times over. All of it was in the name of being able to train, and train effectively. Once the physical element had passed, and it was clear they knew every drill, exercise, and punishment possible, the classroom portion began.

 

Here, they learned every tradition, every single bit of history of Beacon and her companies. There was no longer a guarantee that, past NCO School, they'd be in the same company. Even the teams they had been assigned during Induction Week were no longer a sure thing. Their final two years at Beacon would be solely individual, showing the Promotion Board and the senior cadre how each student interacted with the company when they no longer had three fire-forged friends by their side.

 

The only guarantee any of them would work together after Beacon would be if the Army determined that it wanted all four of them. Even _that_ wouldn't be an assurance, as if one member decided to go their own way, the Army saw no reason to deny them that opportunity. Obviously, they would prefer all four officers lead a specialized command unit in one branch, but “the brass” was not averse to sending a talented young officer somewhere else.

 

For the moment, and during the rare opportunities they got in between drill and training, Weiss, Ruby, Blake and Yang had all decided that there was never an alternative option – if the Army picked RWBY for a commission, they would all head into Armor. Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren and Nora were split, however. Jaune and Nora intended to go Armor, but Ren and Pyrrha were more interested in Infantry. Neither side was willing to compromise, and why would they? This was their lives they were talking about, here. Who could blame either of them for not wanting to do something they may end up hating?

 

* * *

 

 

Pyrrha regretted her promotion to Sergeant. Ever since she had written home about it, mail call was filled with letters from her parents, her siblings, her _yaya_ and every neighbor in a six-block radius, wanting to know when they'd get to see her again and if she'd be in command of her own company. She couldn't begin to explain to them how it couldn't happen yet, or how that wasn't what she was going to be doing.

 

Every letter reminded her of the world she had left behind, when things were so simple. When the most she had to worry about was whether she could ace the next test, or when the next volleyball tournament was. Her family had never been one for military – unlike most students, her parents didn't serve, never had and never would. Dad had gotten an education deferment during Korea, and was too old when the draft came around for Vietnam. Mom never sought out higher education, and thus never got an opportunity. _Papa_ had a myriad of medical issues that prevented him from serving in either World War, and _yaya_ had the same story as Mom.

 

Pyrrha venturing into the military was a strange choice for her family to accept. Mom and Dad desperately wanted Pyrrha to pursue a safer path – anything, really. Her grades were good, they pointed out. Why not become a doctor? A lawyer? The world was her oyster. Why not just take the simple path?

 

That's exactly what she was doing up until 1983, anyway.

 

She remembered when the Beirut bombings were first reported, as she drank a cup of tea with too much sugar for her liking. Everything in her little corner of New York had stopped that day when the Marine Corps sent letters of condolence to her neighbors. Two dozen young men from her area – including Stefan Giannopoulos, a boy not even a year older than Pyrrha when he left for the USMC – had died in the bombing.

 

Pyrrha knew Stefan well, had even been his girlfriend for a short while. His departure for the USMC was the end of their relationship, but he promised to come back to her when he was done. Despite the dangers, despite what he had gone through, despite knowing it was far more likely her service would end in death, Pyrrha had resolved on that day to join the ranks of the US Armed Forces. That's why she was here, at Beacon.

 

That was the story she gave to others, at least. Nowadays, she wasn't sure if all of this was worth the effort. She missed how simple it all was back then.

 

She missed being home.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sergeant Valkyrie!”

“Yes, sergeant!”

“Do you call this an acceptable hospital corner?”

 

Nora looked at the offending corner, slightly out of tune with the others, but not worth shouting over. At least, that's what she thought. If it were up to her, they wouldn't bother to do hospital corners to begin with.

“Yes, Sergeant,” she replied. Bad move.

“Valkyrie, I'll tell you this once, and _once only_ ,” Sergeant First Class Tasse said. “You're going to be teaching a whole squad, maybe even the entire damn company, how to do these when Induction Week comes. You're going to be responsible for _everything_ they do, right or wrong. If they can't learn because you're showing them the wrong technique, then I'm taking your Sergeant stripes myself and burning them.”

 

“Yes, Sergeant,” Nora said, swallowing hard.

“You're an all-star when it comes to weapons, like Rose is,” he continued, “but if you can't get these basic soldierly techniques down, then you're not worth a goddamn thing in this Corps. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

 

* * *

 

 

Their time in hell was coming to an end. Sergeant tabs were being distributed, and congratulations were given all around. They had done it. Each one of them had survived the most hellish experience imaginable and come out on top. In just a few days, they would turn around and give an incoming class of new recruits to Beacon the same treatment. A full day off of any sort of duty was granted to them, to allow them to relieve the immense amount of stress they had.

 

That day would be the only day, though, because once that day was over, they would have to fix the barracks and clean it top to bottom, as well as the campus itself. Everything had to be picture perfect for when the new class arrived.


	25. August, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teams RWBY and JNPR show the ropes to a new class of cadets for their Induction Week.

Ruby must have processed hundreds of new cadets that day.

 

She and Weiss had been tasked with waiting for new cadets to arrive before them, lined up just like she was on their first day here. Each cadet gave her their name, and she would give them a company and room assignment. A few times she had to ask for name spellings, or for them to repeat themselves. Either way, it was boring work. Endless rattling off of names, rooms, and companies, all followed up by “Do you understand that?” and “Repeat that back to me.” Weiss dutifully marked each one of them off as they completed their tiny task, only looking up when one cadet managed to forget his own name.

 

Nearby, she could hear Yang shouting at the incoming cadets, demanding they stand up straight, stop talking, and “don't eyeball me.” Blake was down below, assisting now Lieutenant Scarlatina with taking cadet's photos, a record of each one until they could be issued permanent IDs by Beacon. Allen Hall was abuzz with the low murmur of voices, from people talking to the kinder officers below to the general hubbub of people moving and talking in an unorganized mass. It was hardly the scene of a coherent military institution.

 

* * *

 

 

After the first day of processing, the new cadets were dispersed to the barracks and the first night of instruction began. Unsurprisingly, most new recruits were unaccustomed to the strict demands of their sergeants, and many failed to understand how to fold their clothes, stand in formation, and conduct about-faces. They'd learn, in time, just as Ruby and her friends once had.

 

The morning brought all of the paperwork that Ruby had long forgotten about, and they stood outside the library in blistering heat, waiting for their turn to finish up the remaining fluff.

 

One of the cadets had offended Yang in some way, something he was quickly learning was a grievous offense. Yang had taken off her sunglasses, staring down this cadet as if her eyes could kill. Knowing Yang, they probably _could._

“Say it again, Cadet,” she said, “ _sergeant._ ”

“Yes, sergeants!”

_“Why are you saying sergeants?!”_ Yang screamed. “There's only one of me here!”

Out of curiosity, Ren walked over, observing the scene closely. The cadet's eyes shifted to him, and then back to Yang. “My apologies, sergeants!”

_“_ _You're doing it again! What is wrong with you, cadet?! Why are you saying sergeants?!”_

“Because there are two sergeants in front of me!”

 

Yang glanced to the side, nodding in respect to Ren. She returned her gaze back to the cadet, pointing at Ren.

“He is _not_ talking to you, Cadet, _I am._ There is only _one_ of me, so do it, say “sergeants” _one more time!_ I _dare you!_ ”

“My apologies, sergeant!”

“There you fucking go,” Yang said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Only one of me, cadet. It's not that hard.”

 

* * *

 

 

Unlike their class, the Class of 1990 did not have to be taught for long how to march. They picked it up quickly, and excelled at it.

 

At least, all of them except for Cadet Ramirez.

 

The morning march to the Ranger Station was marked by Ramirez continually falling in holes, and forgetting to call them out for the rest of the company to avoid and watch for. Even when daylight broke, he somehow kept managing to trip over holes on their path when he should have been able to see them.

 

“Ramirez!” Weiss finally shouted at him as they marched, “from now on, every hole you fall into, you owe me a pushup!”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

They continued to march in silence. A hole came up, and was called out by Ruby. Ramirez was in the third rank. There was no plausible way for him not to hear it, especially after the first two ranks called it out as well.

 

And then, just like before, Ramirez involuntarily shouted out as he stumbled over the hole.

“ _RAMIREZ!_ ” Weiss shouted. “What did I just tell you?!”

“I'm sorry, Sergeant!”

“Excuse me?!” Weiss retorted. “ _What_ was that? Do you mean to tell me you are Sergeant Sorry?”

“No, Sergeant!”

“Then what do you say?!”

“My apologies, Sergeant!”

 

The rest of the day passed with Ramirez falling in more holes, and eventually having to do a total of twenty pushups for Weiss as punishment. Two of his squadmates did pushups with him, a good indicator to Ruby – they were already beginning to form teams.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaune hated doing this.

 

Cadet Shepard had a bad habit of talking during formations, especially when First Sergeant Adel was talking. It was a habit that reminded him far too much of himself. It became a problem that Adel ordered him to deal with today, right when they were supposed to be having fun in the Emerald Forest. Instead, Jaune had to ruin Shepard's day, and the day of Cadet Jannsen, who he happened to be talking to when caught.

 

“Alright,” Jaune said, folding his arms as he brought the two off to the side, away from the rest of the company. “Do you understand why you're out here?”

They shook their heads no.

“Cadet Shepard, you've been continually talking during formations, even when specifically ordered to stop. Cadet Jannsen, today I saw you talking when the First Sergeant was speaking to us. You both know that's unacceptable.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” they said. They were clearly regretful, but was it because they had been caught, or because they knew they had screwed up? It was hard to tell.

 

“So, because both of you have insulted the First Sergeant by believing your conversations to have more value than her wisdom, I have to punish you.”

He took a few steps back, gesturing for them to spread apart a bit. Jaune wondered if they'd hate him for this. He probably would, if he were in Jannsen's position at least.

“Front leaning rest position,” Jaune called out, already moving to begin pushups. Not too many for them. Ten would be enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Ren didn't often interact with cadets outside of the few under his command. When he did, he apparently gave off an air of someone much higher ranked, at least if you believed the reaction of one new recruit. Ren had been moving along the line, making sure not a single cadet was out of place.

“Cadet Butler, drop your Knowledge!”

“Yes sir!” Butler shouted, immediately saluting for...some reason. Ren's eyebrows instantly shot up.

“I deserve a salute?” Ren asked. “ _Really?”_

“Yes, sir!” Butler shouted again, his hand now bobbing up and down as he tried to figure out if he actually _should_ salute or not.

“Cadet Butler here just gave me a promotion!”

“Hey, congrats on your promotion there, Ren!” Yang yelled from across the way. “What rank are you at now?”

 

“Well, Butler? What am I now, since you seem to think I'm an officer?”

“Uh,” he stuttered. “Lieutenant?”

“Guess I'm Lieutenant Ren now. Thanks for the promotion, Butler. Don't call me sir next time. I'm a sergeant.”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Olive drab?!?”_ Yang shouted, throwing a t-shirt on the floor. “You think this color is olive-fucking-drab?”

“Uh, um,” the terrified cadet stammered. “Tan?”

“ _Tan?!?_ Please tell me you're joking, Cadet, or at least that you're colorblind, _anything_ to save yourself some embarrassment.”

“No, Sergeant, I am not joking, and I am not colorblind!”

 

Yang shook her head, trying to comprehend this level of sheer stupidity.

“Then for the love of God, Cadet,” she said, “please explain to the rest of the company how on God's green earth you think this color is fucking _tan._ ”

“I...I don't know, Sergeant.”

“Jesus tapdancing Christ,” Yang said, exasperated. “It's _green,_ Cadet. This is what we call _green_ in this country. What are you, Canadian or something?”

“No, Sergeant!”

“Well, unfortunately for you, Beacon doesn't have crayons for you to learn basic colors with! Go over there and do pushups for every color you've forgotten since kindergarten.”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

 

* * *

 

 

_“For might makes right/Until they've seen the light/They've got to be protected/All their rights respected/Till somebody_ _**we** _ _like can be elected/Members of the Corps/All hate the thought of war/They'd rather kill them off by peaceful means/Stop calling it aggression/Ooh, we_ _**hate** _ _that expression/We only want the world to know/That we support the status quo/They love us everywhere we go!”_

 

The new cadence Jaune and Nora had come up with was not received with enthusiasm by the senior cadre. If anything, they sought to actively suppress it. However, the goofy cadence became a rallying cry for Bravo, even if it made all of them sound ridiculous. First Sergeant Adel and Captain Augenburg found it amusing, and that counted more than what the senior cadre said. If they found it acceptable, then it was likely to stay on. For how long was anyone's guess.

 

* * *

 

 

Yang and Ruby had both been assigned to assist overseeing the M60 disassembly for Bravo, while the others were ensuring other activities were prepared and in place for Bravo to attend later. So far, it was going smoothly. The officer this year was a relaxed fellow, more interested in making sure the new cadets had fun rather than demanding strict adherence to disassembly procedures.

 

Ruby could tell it drove Yang mad. She had nearly flown off the handle a few times, but restrained herself to only criticizing some of the overenthusiastic cadets for getting ahead of themselves. They were nearing the most dangerous part now, relaxing the spring tension on the bolt assembly. One wrong move could have disastrous consequences.

 

And, like bad voodoo magic, someone made a wrong move. A spring shot out from one of the M60s, sending it crashing into the wall. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. Ruby had followed the spring to the wall, but not Yang – she had already kicked the M60 out from the offending cadet's hands, looming over him almost as if she were getting ready to strangle him right then and there.

 

“ _Ramirez!”_ she shouted. “Were you or were you not ordered to wait for instructions before proceeding?”

“I was, Sergeant!”

“Then why did you not listen to orders?! Do you think this is a summer camp, Ramirez?”

“No, Sergeant!”

“Then stop treating it like one! We'll deal with this later, Cadet. Pick up that spring and apologize to Captain Lund.”

 

Ramirez did as ordered, and soon he, with the rest of the company, continued disassembling their M60s as prescribed without further incident.

 

Upon returning to the barracks for evening formation, Yang singled out Ramirez (and anyone brave enough to face Yang's punishment) to run laps outside the building with her. She had Ramirez, and three others who volunteered to suffer with him, shout after each lap, “I will follow orders.” Seemingly easy, until they learned Yang only counted the laps so long as they maintained her pace. Falling out was unacceptable, and being too slow was also forbidden. Yang followed this up by having them lie on the floor and raise their legs up, holding them up in the air as long as they could. Most didn't last longer than twenty seconds. Once Ramirez had dropped and tried again four times, she considered this acceptable punishment for his mistake and released him.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't hard to figure out where the cadets ranked them in terms of likeability and general approachability. Ruby and Jaune were easily considered the most easygoing sergeants, always sending out encouragement and uplifting their charges as much as they could. Weiss and Yang both were known as hardliners, demanding strict attention to every single detail and harshly criticizing every mistake. Both also had a reputation for being the most fearsome sergeants in the entire company. Meanwhile, Ren and Blake were sort of middle of the road – they punished mistakes as they saw fit, but also they were just as likely to hand out praise and encouragement when it mattered most.

 

And then there was Nora, also known as “Jekyll and Hyde” among her troops. She enthusiastically led her squad, easily the loudest cadence caller in the entire company, but also if one of her soldiers disrespected someone, or even worse, her, the gloves came off. Failing to adhere to strict personal standards she never clarified with anyone also had consequences few could predict. Sometimes, she'd send the terrified recruit off with a few pushups. Other times, she petitioned to First Sergeant Adel to give them a tour with the Rubber Duck.

 

Nora's bizarre leadership tendencies aside, word made their way to each of them that their charges appreciated their leadership. Yang and Weiss's soldiers lamented not being under Ruby or Jaune's command, but admitted that their hardass attitude made them the most disciplined warriors in Bravo. Likewise, Blake and Ren's squads had nothing but rave reviews for the two, declaring serving under them to be one of the best experiences in Bravo.

 

Out of all of them, Pyrrha probably got the most glowing review. Out of all the medics on campus, Pyrrha was considered the best both to talk to and be treated by. It was quite a different experience compared to their Induction Week, when Bravo's medic had scared them straight when caught in a lie. For Pyrrha, nobody _wanted_ to lie to her. 'Lying to Sergeant Nikos was like lying to God himself,' one cadet was quoted as saying.

 

* * *

 

 

Black Mountain wasn't as hard as Ruby remembered. Sure, the actual run up the mountain was hard, but she wasn't in nearly as much pain as she remembered herself being in back in '84. She could see the Bravo cadets struggling, and helped more than a few of them, both physically and with as much encouragement as she could throw at them. Near her, her friends and fellow sergeants were doing the same. In far less time than she remembered it taking last time, they had finished the Black Mountain run and returned to a new cadre of waiting parents and family. They distributed Beacon pins for the new cadets after Commandant Ozpin's speech, shaking their new comrade's hands.

 

“Sergeant Rose,” Cadet Donnelly asked, her face full of proud tears, “may I ask you to pin this on me?”

“Gladly, Cadet,” Ruby said, taking the pin she had just handed the new soldier, securely pinning it to her chest. Ruby couldn't help but smile at Donnelly. She and nearly a hundred others had joined the prestigious ranks of Beacon. Who _wouldn't_ be proud, after seeing what they had accomplished in a week?

 

* * *

 

 

Another disaster. 1986 was quickly becoming a terrible year for the world, it seemed.

 

In Southern California, a Mexican airline flight hit a private plane mid-air, killing 82 people in both the air and on the ground, and another 8 wounded. Beacon had been put on alert, and the few cadets who were in the California National Guard were mobilized to assist in securing the disaster site and to help sort through the wreckage.

 

The wounded and dead included Americans. Even though none were military, Commandant Ozpin ordered all of Beacon's flags flown at half-mast, and a donation box was put in all barracks to help those wounded and otherwise affected by the tragedy.

 

A half-day was called, and a moment of silence observed campus-wide. It was a somber end to the month, so soon after an otherwise joy-filled day of graduation. For many students at Beacon, their first memories of the school post-Induction Week would probably be that of a tragedy.

 


	26. September, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weiss tries to figure out what led to her suicide attempt. Pyrrha can't understand her emotions.

What had made her behave that way?

 

Weiss stared at her neck, almost as if she could still feel the cold steel against it. The nightmares of that night still haunted her – dreams where she had gone though with her suicide attempt, a sobbing Ruby sitting over her, trying to do something, _anything_ as Weiss's soul left her body with the blood. Sometimes, Winter would appear in her nightmare, but not as she remembered her. In the dream, Winter had been mutated by the radiation, her skin a sickly green, hair falling out, and her voice sounding as if full of gravel, course and rough. Her once stunning sister, the pride of the Schnee family, was reduced to an ugly husk in Weiss's kettle logic.

 

She scarcely even remembered the events leading up to those five minutes, when Ruby and Yang had stopped her. Weiss didn't remember how she got the knife out of the dining hall. She didn't remember sitting in a dark room for three hours. She certainly didn't remember Yang pinning her down on her bed, asking her what she was thinking. What she did remember clearly was a terrified Ruby, and a deathly calm Yang disarming her.

 

That face that Ruby had was forever etched into Weiss's memory. In it, Ruby was scared, for both herself and for her friend, but she was also concerned, worried for Weiss's safety and mental stability, wanting desperately to act but paralyzed by fear. The panic and terror etched on her friend's face was just another mental scar to add to the list.

 

The entire incident reminded her of her other scar, the one that ruined her face. Not many had asked her about it – most assuming she didn't want to talk about it, which was true – the few who did got the answer of “an accident.” Like many things in Weiss's life, it was a half-truth at best. Father was a big proponent of realistic training in all aspects, and that included swordplay. Her brother, Whitley, had gotten too aggressive during fencing practice one day, and gave her the permanent scar that adorned her otherwise flawless face.

 

She remembered clearly how it bled, and how little Whitley had cared when it happened. He had offered a half-hearted apology, and then moved on as if nothing had ever happened. Weiss remembered going to the Hanover hospital, with Father fearful that the injury had affected her eye and therefore her chances at a military career. Thankfully, no such misfortune befell her.

 

And yet, with all of that, she couldn't explain why she had felt compelled to hold a knife to her own throat, a mere flick of the wrist away from ending her life. Was it pride in Germany? Hardly, she was joining the _American_ Army, not the _Bundeswehr._ She knew that, had she succeeded, only her mother and Winter would be affected by her death. Father had practically disowned her since she had made the choice to go to Beacon, and Whitley...well, the less said about him the better. Neither her mother or Winter would ever know why Weiss had taken her own life.

 

Maybe she was just scared, afraid of anything happening to home. But that didn't make sense to her either. If she was fearful of what happened to Germany, why wasn't she there right now? Why was she thousands of kilometers away in California? Weiss didn't know if she could ever answer why she had tried to do what she did.

 

Yang knocked on her door, breaking Weiss out of her depressing memories.

“Yes?” Weiss asked, though she could see Yang behind her in the mirror.

“I see you staring at your neck, dude,” Yang said.

Involuntarily, Weiss brushed her hand against it, swallowing hard and feeling the muscles move. It was a strange reminder that, yes, she _was_ alive, despite what she had wanted to do that day. Behind her, Yang walked into the room, stealing Ruby's chair and sitting next to Weiss.

 

“You still thinking about that night?” Yang asked. Did she really _need_ to ask? Wasn't the fact that Weiss was sitting in front of her mirror, trying to find logic in an illogical night, indication enough?

“What do _you_ think?” Weiss huffed.

Yang leaned against Weiss's desk, trying to look at her friend in the face. So far, it wasn't working – Weiss wasn't allowing Yang to see her. She was ashamed of herself for being so weak-willed, even when she couldn't explain _why._

“I think you're avoiding my question.”

 

“How do you do it, Yang?” Weiss asked. “How are you strong enough for everyone in this company, and yourself?”

“I get a little help from my friend Jack Daniels,” Yang said, cracking a smile.

“Who's Daniels?”

And just like that, Yang's smile disappeared, replaced by an exasperated look. “Whiskey, Weiss. Come on.”

 

Weiss closed her eyes, wanting to scream in frustration at how Yang managed to turn everything into a joke. This wasn't leadership, not in Weiss's eyes. Here she was, trying to ask a real question, and Yang just _couldn't_ take anything seriously.

“Yang, I swear to God, I'm trying-”

“Yeah, I _know_ what you're trying to do, Weiss,” Yang said. “It's how I deal with stress, alright? I make jokes. You want the truth? I don't have a damn clue how I do it.”

 

“That's not exactly what I was looking for.”

“Well,” Yang replied, shrugging, “sucks. That's all you get. But really, though. You okay under there?”

Weiss sighed. “Yes, I suppose. I just...why did you do what you did, Yang?”

Yang looked back up, confused. “Why'd I do _what?_ ”

“Protect me,” Weiss explained. “You could have reported it to the First Sergeant, you _should_ have. But you didn't. And because you didn't, I'm still here. I'm still on my way to a promotion, and the military if they'll take me. But I can't talk to anyone about it now, because if I do, I'll be branded as 'unfit.'”

 

Weiss turned her head, the first time she had looked away from the mirror since Yang had walked in the room. “I don't understand why you turned back on the same oath we all took.”

Yang straightened up, clearly uncomfortable. “I learned that my uncle killed a man in Vietnam. Not like, in the middle of a battle or anything, but just...shot him at a harbor and threw his body in the sea. Not even an enemy. It was a South Vietnamese dude, and he lied to the Vietnamese, he and my mother both. He took the same oath we did.”

 

“I don't see your point,” Weiss said.

“Yeah, I kinda said the same thing. He told me, 'That's war.' I don't think it was. I think, when the chips are down, and your friends, your _family_ , are on the line? You do what you have to. There's no oath worth upholding if it stops you from acting when shit's that bad.”

 

Weiss looked back at the mirror, feeling like she was staring back at a different person this time. Was this still the same woman who had walked onto Beacon's campus late at night, already behind and having to play catch-up the first week, or had she been killed, replaced by a new woman Weiss no longer recognized? It was hard to tell, and Yang's words weren't helping. If Yang didn't think that their oath as members of the Corps was worth keeping, what did it mean to Weiss?

 

“I'm not helping much, am I?” Yang asked, almost as if she could read Weiss's mind.

“Well, you certainly can't make things much _worse_.”

Yang slouched over in her chair, clearly regretful. Neither woman said anything for a while, until Yang broke the silence with a quiet sigh.

“I'm sorry,” Yang said. “I just...you're like a sister to me, Weiss. I don't leave family behind for _anything._ ”

 

With nothing left to say, Yang stood up and left Weiss's room, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more. Weiss soon got out of her seat as well, gathering things to go to her evening class. She couldn't stay in this room forever, after all. There were too many memories.

 

* * *

 

 

Weiss hated having fire watch. It was boring, nothing ever happened, and all she had was a flashlight and her own mind. The raging thunderstorm wasn't helping much. With each flash of lightning, shadows jumped on the walls, and the entire floor was illuminated to reveal any possible threat. Ostensibly, all she had to do was make sure that, if there was a fire, she could begin the evacuation process quickly enough to save them all.

 

It was only three and a half hours. Then Nora would relieve her. That had to be good, right? She could survive three hours. Or, at least, she _thought_ she could. She could have sworn each time the thunder created her image on the wall, she wasn't holding a flashlight, but the same knife she had taken back in April. With each pass she did, Weiss felt more and more alone and small. The walls seemed to close in on her, stretching in impossible ways to envelop her whole.

 

The oppression and disorientating tricks her mind was playing on her continued through the night. Each crack of thunder sounded like a whip, commanding her to be a slave to her torment-filled mind. Would there ever be an end to this chronic, sustained cruelty?

 

Perhaps far sooner than Weiss thought, Nora approached with her own flashlight in hand, ready to take over for Weiss. Even in the darkness, Nora could tell something was bothering her.

“You OK there, Weiss?”

“Y-yeah,” Weiss blatantly lied. “Just tired.”

“Well, go get some sleep then,” Nora advised. “You earned it, Weiss.”

“I suppose I have.”

 

* * *

 

 

Something was different today. Pyrrha could tell. She looked around her and Jaune's room – aside from a few new trinkets he had picked up, it was the same as it had always been. His side was in a subtle balance, disorganized but yet everything had a place, while her side was as regimented as her life. It was just the usual contrast she saw every day.

 

Over at his desk, Jaune was studying away, quietly mumbling to himself in German. She had never noticed it before, but when he spoke German, Jaune's voice almost got a song-like cadence to it, a stark contrast to his usually reserved and flat English. Did Pyrrha do the same thing when she spoke Greek? She didn't know.

 

Now that she realized it, she came to the revelation that what was different today was that her heart skipped a beat when she saw or thought of Jaune. When had this happened? Did he know? Were her feelings hidden from him, or was she as subtle as a train wreck? A thousand possibilities flew through her mind, and not one of them helped her.

 

Suddenly, Jaune's hand was on her shoulder, and he looked at her concerned. “You alright there, Pyrrha?”

“I...I don't know,” she said. _Why did you say that? Now he's going to worry!_

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Uh. Um. Where's Nora? I need to ask her about….physics things.”

“I think Nora's in the Pit with Ren, why-”

“ _OkaythanksIgottagobyeJaune!”_

 

Without even waiting for Jaune to ask why, Pyrrha got out of her chair, practically running out of the door as fast as her legs could take her. Not willing to make even more of a scene than she already had, Pyrrha fast-walked to the Pit, trying very hard to hide her flushed cheeks. Or, at least, she _thought_ they were flushed. That was the only answer she had for why her face was suddenly so hot.

 

Finally, she reached the Pit, where Ren and Nora sat on the couch watching TV. Okay, not perfect, but she knew she could trust Ren. He wouldn't say anything unless she said it was okay.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Nora said. “Woah, what happened to you? Stick your face in the 75 or something?”

“Nora, I need you to help me make sure I'm not going crazy.”

Nora slid away from Ren slightly, and he made room for Pyrrha on the couch.

“Okay, uh, start from the beginning, I guess?”

 

“I don't think there is one, Nora. I...I think I'm falling for Jaune.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Nora said. “What makes you think that?”

“I don't know,” Pyrrha replied. “I just...everything he does is...I can't put it into words. Nothing sounds right, Nora.”

“Alright, this is serious, then,” Nora said, putting a hand to her chin to think. “You haven't said anything to him about it, right?”

“God no, I'm too afraid.”

 

Right when Nora was about to offer more advice, Private Ramirez headed over to them, standing at ease and facing Ren.

“Excuse me, Sergeant Ren,” he said, “uh, Sergeant Arc said he wanted to see you in his room.”

“Did he say what about?”

“No, sergeant.”

Ren sighed, thanking Ramirez for telling him and dismissing him. Slowly, Ren got up and headed to their room, leaving Pyrrha and Nora alone.

 

“Alright,” Nora said once Ramirez had left the area, “you have two options here, Pyrrha. You can either bury these feelings like it's a copy of that _E.T_ video game, _or_ you can go talk to him about it right now.”

“W-why would I want to pretend I don't have these feelings?” Pyrrha asked.

“And that's your answer,” Nora replied, smiling. “See, I've got this kind of stuff down to a science. If someone comes to me asking for relationship advice, I _always_ give them two extremes. People always ask why they'd do the one thing they can't consider.”

 

Pyrrha tried to follow the logic of Nora's “science,” rapidly failing to do so. “Wait, so...”

“When I told you to ignore it or go talk to him, you asked why you'd want to ignore your feelings. That tells me you at least want to act on it. Listen, Pyrrha, you two are pretty good friends. I can't imagine anything going wrong because you told him you think you like him.”

 

“I mean,” Pyrrha said, “ _I_ can.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Nora replied, getting up and shoving Pyrrha off the couch. “Now go talk to him, you femme fatale, you!”

_Oh boy,_ Pyrrha thought. _This can go wrong in so many ways._

 

Pyrrha returned to her room, only to find Ren making a swift exit. He wordlessly moved past Pyrrha, barely even looking in her direction as he went out the door. That was odd. Ren usually at least said hi, or acknowledged she was there. In their room, Pyrrha could see Jaune leaning against his desk, staring at the floor.

 

“Hey, Jaune,” Pyrrha said, nervously walking into the room.

“Oh, uh, hey Pyrrha,” he replied. He seemed almost startled that she was there.

“So, Jaune, I've been thinking,” she started, awkwardly pausing as she tried to think of the right words. “I...I think I like you. Like, more than as a friend.”

Jaune's eyes widened, and he tried to find something that _wasn't_ Pyrrha to look at as he rubbed the back of his head. “Oh, uh, um, I...I'm...I'm glad you think that.”

 

He stopped abruptly, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying.

“Is..is that it?” Pyrrha probed, tilting her head in curiosity.

“No, I...I don't know. I always had feelings for you too, but...I never thought you'd think the same.”

“So, then, I suppose all I can ask is do you want to do anything about it?”

Jaune's face immediately turned red. “Pyrrha, I can't begin to tell you how much I value you as a friend. I don't know if I can do this. It's great that I _know_ , but...I can't help but wonder what's going to happen if it goes wrong, or when one of us gets promoted. We both know we can't have a relationship if one of us is an officer.”

 

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “I think I wanted to hear that, Jaune. Maybe...maybe another time, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Jaune replied, smiling as his face went back to its normal color. “Maybe later.”


	27. October, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bravo Company receives a new captain. Ruby Rose finds something unexpected on the drill field. Ren gets a demerit.

Controversy was rocking Bravo Company this month.

 

Captain Augenburg, formerly a star student and on the fast-track to his desired position as a commissioned air defense officer, had been caught plagiarizing on his biggest essay of the semester. The rules were clear, especially on a project as massive as this one – immediate expulsion, and zero chance of a commission. Since he had such a high rank, somebody was getting a _very_ early promotion.

 

However, Bravo itself was split on opinions regarding his actions and punishment. Most conceded that, yes, his crime was unmistakeable and demanded a judgment. Yet a select few, primarily the few friends who stood by Augenburg's side, defended his actions, claiming they weren't as damning as initially reported. Others said his punishment fit the bill of the action. Yang, Ren and Weiss believed he should have been punished even more; although he would not be able to earn a commission from Beacon, he was still able to petition to the Ohio state governor to be allowed into Officer Candidate School in Georgia. This was sickening to the three, and they wanted to find a way to force the Army to reject any applications Augenburg made for an officer position for the rest of his miserable life.

 

The few who bordered on the line between defending him and believing his punishment was too severe usually felt an expulsion from Beacon was in order, but rejected the idea that he should be denied a commission outright. The arguments lasted for days as the Promotion Board canvassed Bravo's senior sergeants and junior officers, looking for the best pair of shoes to fill former Captain Augenburg's position.

 

The rumored shortlist included Sergeant First Class Scarlatina, Lieutenant O'Deorain and Sergeant First Class Daichi. Betting pools were soon covertly implemented, with each member of Bravo putting forward whatever money they had on hand to predict their new captain. Popular choices banked on either Lieutenant O'Deorain or SFC. Scarlatina, though the ever-common debates in the Pit had SFC. Daichi as a figurative dark horse.

 

Five days later, the Promotion Board announced that First Sergeant Adel would be promoted straight to Captain. The betters were in a range of emotions from angry to in disbelief, mostly that the _one_ person in the entire company who wasn't even considered was the one who got picked. To compensate, several others also received promotions, leading to Scarlatina now being a Lieutenant, SFC. Daichi becoming the new First Sergeant, and a handful of other promotions to rebuild the company's internal leadership structure.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn't take long for Adel to slip into her role as captain. What did take her a while, however, was getting used to the work and stress that the promotion brought with it. It was written on her face as she headed off to various events and duties, and her anger was even more hair-trigger than it had been when she was the First Sergeant.

 

Ruby saw a lot of this side of Adel, since her squad now acted as assistants to Lieutenant Scarlatina, forming the nucleus of Captain Adel's command squad. For field exercises, Ruby, her squad, and Lieutenant Scarlatina had the honor of being with Adel at every point, helping her execute the maneuvers and keep control of the company.

 

Scarlatina had seen in Ruby a great deal of understanding for tactics, and had begun teaching Ruby lessons that Colonel Port never would. The two had many meetings on Monday afternoons between their classes, wherein Scarlatina gave Ruby a historical battle, the technology she was to work with, and then told Ruby to apply everything she knew to defeat the enemy. The parameters changed often, even in the middle of the battle, but it was good learning for Ruby.

 

Today, Scarlatina had Ruby take control of German forces at a place called Dunkirk, forcing her to form a plan of action before the British and French could evacuate their army.

 

“Hey, how you doing, Coco?” Scarlatina asked as Adel walked into the room.

Immediately, she stopped, turning her head to Scarlatina with an eye that was almost murderous. Her gaze was unrelenting, piercing straight through Scarlatina like a spear.

“How – how am I doing?” she repeated, wide-eyed with bewilderment. “You wanna know how I'm doing? I just got back from staff call, and I have two essays, two tests, an AAR to write, a PT test tomorrow, and Sergeant Klaasen hates me. _That's_ how I'm doing.”

Adel stood there for a few minutes, with nobody else in the room moving. Eventually, she began to head off to her room, and on instinct Ruby stood up.

“Well,” she said, sheepishly, “have a good day ma'am-”

“Fuck you,” Adel said to Ruby, either not recognizing who Ruby was or just simply that stressed out she didn't care.

 

Ruby waited until Adel had left before letting out a heavy sigh. She felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to see Scarlatina.

“Don't worry about it, Ruby,” she reassured. “Coco's just under a lot of stress. It'll be back to normal when she gets used to it.

“I know,” Ruby said. “I wish I could make it easier for her.”

“All we can do is wait, Ruby, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

 

* * *

 

 

What was the point of it all?

 

Ruby's depression had returned with a vengeance. She dreaded heading to formations, and even a temporary assignment in the supply depot, assisting Beacon's chief armorer in his duties, did not reignite the spark Ruby had in her when she first arrived.

 

Her friends asked a lot of questions when they figured it out, Yang and Blake especially. Her answers were the same each time. No, it wasn't because Captain Adel had cranked up the pressure on all of them. No, it wasn't because Adel had yelled at her last week. No, it wasn't because the tests were getting harder and harder. No, it wasn't because Colonel Port gave her a C on her last essay. No, it wasn't because the leaves were changing colors.

 

Some times, Ruby just wanted to snap and turn their questions around on them. If they thought she knew why she didn't want to do anything, then wouldn't she be _doing_ something about it? It seemed to make sense to her. So why didn't anyone else get that she just _didn't_ have an answer? Why the hell couldn't any of them just accept “I don't know” and move on?

 

Ruby often sought refuge on the drill field, hanging out on it to stare at the sky and wait for the day to pass. There was nothing else for her to do, outside of assigned duties, classes and formations. Anything to distract herself from the unrelenting hell her mind was inflicting on her.

 

It was on one of these days that another Cadet headed over to her, standing over Ruby as she stared to the sky.

“Uh,” she said after she had conjured up enough will, “may I help you?”

“You're looking a little lost, Sergeant.”

Ruby glanced at his cap – a Lieutenant. Did she need to salute?

“Oh, uh, my apologies, sir, but-”

“Don't worry about it, Sergeant, I don't care right now if you salute or not.”

 

He sat down next to her, looking to the sky as well.

“Do you mind if I hang here with you for a bit?”

“Uh, go ahead, sir.”

“Y'know, I've met a lot of people hanging out on this drill field,” he said unprompted. “I've met a lot more who only hang out here if they've got some kinda issue to work through. So, what's your story, Sergeant?”

 

This was...weird. Why did this guy think he could just say a few words to her, and then she'd be ready to spill her life story?

 

And yet, why was she about to do it right now?

 

“I can't seem to even get myself out of bed some days,” she muttered, without knowing why. “It's like I'm just a robot that's out of gas.”

“I may be able to offer some help, but only if you tell me I can.”

“Huh?” Ruby asked, sitting up to look at him.

 

That's when she noticed the cross that hung on his neck. Was he part of the Chaplain Corps? Probably.

“All I need to know is if you want to hear my message or not, Sergeant.”

“Um, go ahead, I guess?”

He nodded, turning to face her fully. “What motivated you to come to Beacon? To join the Army?”

“My parents, and my uncle. They both served in Vietnam.”

“Anything beyond that? Was it just family tradition to serve?”

 

“No, not really,” Ruby said, shrugging. “I've been wanting to join the Army since I was about thirteen.”

“Do you think your parents are proud of what you're doing here?”

She paused. How could she answer this without dumping a truckload of information on him?

“Well,” Ruby said, hesitating. “I know my dad and uncle are. I don't know about Mom.”

“Why not?”

“Ask her brick up there,” Ruby replied, pointing to the Memorial Plaza.

 

He followed her gesture, then sat in contemplation for a few moments, considering what to say.

“I'll get to my point then. Do you believe in a Heaven?”

“I've never much thought about it, but I guess so.”

“Now, it works different for everyone, I reckon, because ain't nobody ever answered this the same way. In my mind, I figure there's gotta be a Heaven, cause if there isn't, then what am I working for? All of my efforts on this world will be for nothing if they're not reflected in some kind of afterlife, right?”

 

“I'm sorry, you said you could help me?” Ruby asked, quickly becoming irritated with his proselytizing.

“If what I've been talking about is helping, then yes. I fully believe all challenges we face in our lives can be overcome with a healthy respect for Our Lord. I was like you not long after I came here. I spent a long time feeling aimless, wondering what I was doing. Once I found God, I found with Him a new purpose in life.”

 

“Ah,” Ruby said, nodding. Alright. She had had enough. This wasn't going to help. “Well, thanks for talking to me anyway,” she said, getting up. The sooner she got away from this guy, the better.

 

Who the hell thought trying to convert someone in the middle of the drill field was a good idea?

 

* * *

 

 

Studying seemed to be the only relief Ren had as of late from...well, _everyone._ In the past few months, even his friendship with Nora had been strained as finals week approached and the entire brigade was put on edge. Pressure was on all cadets, from Cadet Colonel Ridgler to the newest privates, to perform and do their best.

 

The only sure thing Ren could count on anymore was that his room was the one place where nothing bad happened, where he could relax and not have to deal with anyone he didn't want to.

 

And then Nora just _had_ to barge in one night, Jaune in tow.

“Heyyyyyy, Ren,” Nora slurred, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. “You wanna sippa this?”

How had she even gotten this past the desk sergeant? How had Captain Adel not seen her and thrown both Nora and Jaune out the window?

“No, thank you,” Ren replied. “You should get that out of here before the Captain sees you.”

“ _Nahhhhhh_ ,” Nora said, “s'fine. Whatever, more for us anyway.”

“Hey, hey,” Jaune said, equally drunk, “let me have a bit first, yeah?”

 

Nora lazily handed the bottle over, and Jaune weighed it in his hand. He was about to take a drink from it, before he stared straight at Ren, his eyes wide in fear and panic.

“We drank it all,” Jaune said quietly. “There's none left, Nora.”

“Huh? Why'd you go and drink it all, Jaune? I wanted some, too...”

“We gotta get rid of this,” Jaune said, panicked.

 

“Oh, that's _easy,”_ Nora said, grabbing the bottle from Jaune and marching into Jaune and Pyrrha's room. Jaune followed, barely able to keep himself from falling over as he stumbled across the floor.

“ _Wait!_ ” Jaune shouted not two seconds later. “Don't put it in _my_ trash bin!”

“Well, I can't go and put it in Py...Pir...Pah...your _girlfriend's_ trash can, now can I?”

“S'not my friendgirl,” Jaune slurred, “just...I dunno, put it somewhere else!”

 

The two had moved back into the joining room between their dorms, drunkenly arguing about what to do with the bottle when a knock came at the door. Without waiting for an answer, Captain Adel walked in.

“Sergeant Ren,” she announced as she entered, “I need you to...”

She paused, spotting Nora and Jaune trying to act normal, completely failing at doing so, and hiding the bottle between them.

“Are...you two okay?” Adel asked them. Both nodded, far too obviously in an attempt to act “normal.”

 

And then Jaune lost his balance and fell over.

 

“Sergeant,” Captain Adel ordered, “show me what you have behind your back.”

Nora groaned as she took her hand out from behind her back, revealing the empty vodka bottle. Adel snatched it up, looking over the three.

“You have ten seconds, _exactly ten seconds_ , to explain to me why on Earth I found this in your hand, Sergeants.”

“No excuse, ma'am,” Nora said.

 

“Yeah, I thought so. OK, guess what, party animals, because I literally just caught you all with alcohol, I have to punish you now.”

“Excuse me, Captain,” Ren said, “I have to protest, I didn't-”

“I don't really care if you did or didn't drink any, Sergeant,” Adel shot back. “You were in this room with them when they had alcohol, and you didn't do anything about it. You're as liable as they are.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ren said, retreating back to submission.

 

“As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted,” Adel continued, “I'm going to write all three of you up. Four demerits each for having alcohol in your room and consuming it. I want to see all of you doing two tours with the Rubber Duck every day for a week. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” they answered.

 

Great. The dreaded Rubber Duck tour. Each “tour” was an hour-long march with a rubber M16 mockup, which was only to be interrupted when either relieved by a superior or when severely inclement weather suspended all campus activities.

 

What had Ren done to be shackled with such a stain on his record?


	28. March, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Yang have an oddly serious discussion for once, and their friendship becomes something else.

It wasn't the best start to the semester – duties had plagued Blake's schedule, and the start of classes meant she now spent most of her time studying rather than reading one of the few books she had picked up back home. It was typical by this point. Blake expected to have little time to herself. She wasn't sure how Yang had ever dealt with it, other than blasting her music whenever she could and making excuses to go out for motorcycle rides.

 

Just a few minutes ago, Blake and Yang had even been joking about their lack of free time. Ironically, they noted that they first believed being promoted would give them _more_ free time, not less.

 

“Blake,” Yang asked, suddenly very serious. “We've been friends for a while, right?”

Blake furrowed her brow, not sure what Yang was getting at. Did Yang have a dramatic onset of amnesia or something? Had she completely forgotten the past three years?

“Uh,” Blake said. “Yes? Why are you asking?”

Yang drummed her fingers on her desk, staring off into space as if in a haze. She seemed lost in thought, or maybe just trying to find the right words. Blake couldn't tell.

“You've been like...one of my best friends the entire time I've been here,” Yang finally said. “I... _god_ , this is so stupid. Blake, I think I like you.”

 

Time itself seemed to stop as Blake grappled with the weight of Yang's words. She knew Yang well enough to know what she was implying, and she'd _never_ do this lightly. Blake studied the woman across from her closely. Yang wasn't drunk. She wasn't stressed over anything. In fact, Yang seemed the most sober and clear-minded she had been in months.

 

And that's what scared Blake more than anything else.

 

“Okay,” Blake said cautiously. “Um, that's... unexpected. I'm sorry, this is – can you walk me through it?”

Yang sighed. “I don't know, like I said, I _think_ I like you, alright? Like, more than a friend, you know?”

“Yeah, I kind of guessed, Yang.”

“Can you just _not_ be your usual sarcastic self right now?” Yang asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can't do this if I have to guess if you mean what you're saying or not.”

“Okay,” Blake said. “I'm sorry.”

 

Yang nodded, smiling slightly now that Blake had accommodated her. “Yeah, anyway. I dunno. You've been here for me through all the good and bad times, and I've done the same for you. You made me realize I was being a dumb, useless lesbian after Raines left for good. You've been a hell of a lot better for me than anyone else I've met here.”

As Yang spoke, Blake couldn't help but avoid her friend's gaze, darting her eyes around the room in an attempt to find something to focus on that wasn't Yang. She felt like she was back in high school all over again, hiding in the hallways with Adam and his friends, hoping he'd turn his gaze towards her for once.

 

“Yang, I really don't want to discourage you,” Blake said, “but I just want to make sure you're thinking with the right brain here. You know what you're saying, right?”

“I do,” she replied, nodding. “I know I'm probably wrecking our friendship, but...dammit, Blake, I haven't found anyone else that I'm as comfortable with as you. You've seen every side of me, and you haven't run away yet. That's pretty fucking good in my book.”

Blake's heart fluttered. God, it wasn't obvious before, but now? Her breaths were short, labored, as if she were running Black Mountain again.

“Let me...” Blake said, trying to find reason in her own mind. “Just...I have to think about this, Yang. I'm not saying no to you, but I'm not saying yes, either.”

 

“I haven't even asked anything,” Yang said, confused.

“I know,” Blake responded, “but I know _you,_ Yang. Let's just sleep on it, yeah?”

Yang's lower lip quivered, but only for a split second. She closed her eyes, and nodded. “Alright.”

Yang had only said one word, turning back to her studies. But to Blake? That one word had a hundred more hiding behind it. She knew Yang wanted to talk about it more, wanted to explore every option and figure out where she stood with Blake. Blake couldn't do that today, _wouldn't_. If she hadn't been spending three years sharing a room with Yang, she probably would have jumped right into it.

 

But she _had_ spent three years with Yang in this room, seeing every side of her, good and bad. There wasn't any mystery. Blake knew how Yang thought, reacted to things. She didn't know if she wanted what Yang offered.

 

And yet, at the same time, maybe she _did._

 

* * *

 

 

True to her word, Yang gave Blake some time to think it over, and she had come to a decision. At least, part of one anyway. Blake waited until they had a moment where Weiss and Ruby were both out on duty, or otherwise occupied with classes.

“So, Yang,” Blake said, nervously shifting around in her chair. “I…I've been thinking.”

“Okay,” Yang said warily, putting her pencil down and facing her.

“I'm not making any promises here,” Blake warned. “But I'm willing to explore being with you. I don't think I have to remind you about the Corps' regulations.”

Yang smiled wide, clearly overjoyed that Blake had said yes, however tentatively. She soon frowned.

“Wait,” Yang said, confused. “I thought you said you weren't gay?”

 

“I'm not,” Blake replied.

“Then why are you-”

“Because I'm bi, you idiot,” Blake said, putting a hand on her head.

“You're by what?” Yang asked, still confused.

“ _Oh my god._ I'm _bisexual._ I like both guys and girls. Do you get it now?”

 

The gears turned in Yang's head, before she finally figured it out. “OH! Alright, yeah, cool. Well, let me know what you wanna do, and when, alright?”

“Yeah,” Blake said, returning her friend's smile. On the inside, Blake was praying to every deity she knew of, hoping one of them would hear her beg to know whether she was making a dumb move or not.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where do _you_ wanna go?”

 

Blake hated this part. She always had to decide where to go, whether it was for the first few dates with Yang, or with Adam. Blake hated having to pick. It always put pressure on her to try and read what kind of mood her partner was in, and what sounded “good,” which was always as subjective as whether or not green was the best color.

 

“I heard there's a new Thai place that opened up,” Blake suggested, trying to sound at least somewhat confident.

“Thai, huh?” Yang said, aimlessly looking around the drill field. “Yeah, I've never had Thai, but it sounds good. Do we have to drive there?”

“Yeah, I think so. It's near North Beach.”

“Cool, it'll be a nice little ride, then.”

 

And so, the two hopped onto Yang's bike, and she handed Blake a helmet, reminding her to hold on tight. Blake didn't need the encouragement; especially in the streets, Yang drove like a maniac, constantly ducking and weaving in between cars like she was in a race. After an only mildly terrifying ride later, which Blake had kept her eyes shut for most of, they arrived at the new Thai place. It didn't look too busy. Good, maybe they wouldn't have to deal with a long line then.

 

On Blake's recommendation (and partially because Yang couldn't find for herself anything she'd think she could eat) they both ordered pad thai, left with only each other to entertain themselves with while they waited for food. Yang had made overtures, about as subtle as a bomber, that she wanted to know more about Blake's past. Not at all surprising, really.

 

“Hey, so you talked about this dude 'Adam' before, right? He an old friend of yours or something?”

It had been _years_ since she had thought about Adam. Blake remembered when she first brought Adam home, and he and Dad had nearly fought each other over the war in Vietnam. Adam's entire existence was an affront to what Mom and Dad did in Vietnam, not that Blake could see it at the time. When she was in love with him, she thought he was just a misguided soul that she could help.

 

“Something like that,” Blake said. “We were a thing for a while. I broke up with him when he got...well, _really_ weird.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“He was always weird, like, really into counterculture stuff, black metal like Discharge, that kind of thing. Really liked smoking weed.”

“Ugh, god,” Yang said, practically retching at the mere mention of cannabis. “How'd you stand that dude?”

“Honestly?” Blake said, before shrugging her shoulders. “I have no idea. I don't know why or how my parents let me hang around him as long as I did. I guess I just wanted to be a rebel for a while, and Adam fit that bill pretty well.”

 

“Well, wait, you didn't say what made him _really_ weird though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Blake said. “He...he got _really_ into conspiracy theories, was convinced we had never made it to the moon, the Russians were in the White House, JFK conspiracies, the whole nine yards. Kept talking about how it was inevitable that the Russians would just take over one day.”

“Jeez,” Yang muttered.

“That wasn't even the worst of it, though. He got really heavy into communism and socialism, wanted me to join him in whatever crazy plan he had. That's when I told him no, and...well, I'm just glad that my dad can still kick ass at his age.”

 

Yang looked at Blake intensely, before cracking a weak smile. “Are you _trying_ to make me keep you here forever or something? 'Cause I can't let you go back to Hawaii if that nutjob's there.”

Blake laughed. “No, but really, he's fine now. I haven't seen him for years.”

Offering a reprieve from talk of the past, their food arrived, and much to both Yang and Blake's surprise, Yang actually _liked_ the pad thai. From a woman that seemed to only subsist herself on cheeseburgers, pizza, and steak, this was a huge step. It was a change Blake didn't think she'd ever see from Yang.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you _ever_ going to go?”

 

Weiss was impatient, as usual, waiting for Blake to write down her moves. The four had met up for a game of _Diplomacy,_ a board game Blake had found while out shopping the other weekend with Yang, and decided it sounded like fun. For a while, it was – each of them took control of one of the Great Powers in the years leading up to World War I. Ruby had opted to play Great Britain, thinking that just having one army to control would be easier. Weiss, playing up her nationalist side, took the mantle of Germany and the Ottoman Empire. Blake chose Italy and Russia, while Yang plotted with Austria and France.

 

The Italian moves still had to be submitted, and Blake was heavily weighing her options. For Weiss, it was taking far too long.

“Come on,” she pleaded, “it's the _Italians._ How much thinking can you do with them?”

“I have a strategy, hold on.”

Finally, Blake wrote down the Italian orders, and they alongside all other orders were executed.

 

“Wait, hold on,” Weiss said, staring at Bulgaria, which now had a Russian army sitting in it, “what do you think you're doing, Blake?! We had an agreement!”

“You're right,” Blake said, deadpan. “We did.”

“ _And again!”_ Weiss shouted, seeing the newly-arrived Russian army in Prussia. “Prussia is _mine,_ you scandalous little betrayer!”

Blake shrugged. “I wanted it, so I'm going to take it.”

 

_“_ _You've gone too far!_ ” Weiss declared. _“Fear the almighty power of the Deutschen Armee! Cower as they pillage your homes and weep as they take your children from your very arms!_ Don't worry, Blake, the Russian children will make fine Germans once they learn how to speak properly.”

“I hope you didn't like Bohemia,” Yang commented.

“Huh?”

“You left Bohemia undefended.”

 

Weiss looked at the board, confirming that she had indeed left Bohemia totally empty, now occupied by an Austrian army. Although none had made mention of it, French armies were on the move as well, crossing the Rhine now that western Germany was left open as Weiss responded to Russian moves.

“I hate this game of emotions we play,” Weiss said, slumping over in her chair.

“Nice power move, babe,” Yang said, raising her hand to high-five Blake. Blake left her hanging, only temporarily cocking an eyebrow at Yang's comment. While Weiss petitioned to Ruby for some assistance from the British fleet, Ruby saw Blake whisper something to Yang out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey,” Ruby reminded, “Wilson rules. No secret negotiations!”

 

“Oh,” Yang said, sounding deflated, “nah, it wasn't an in-game thing. Don't worry.”

Ruby wasn't sure what they had been whispering about, but it didn't look like good news to Yang. Her mood was permanently down after that, even though she tried hard to maintain her usual upbeat attitude. Ruby could tell it wasn't working.


	29. April, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang earns a demerit.

Just another perfect day.

 

Yang and Blake often hung out in the Pit after evening formation now, waiting for the first-years to be confined to their rooms, and for the officers to head off to staff call. They would wait till they were alone, or at least around people they knew didn't care and wouldn't report them to the First Sarge. Then they could relax, often sinking into the cute couple shit Yang had always seen in movies. Blake allowed herself to be vulnerable around Yang, often falling asleep on her if she had had a long day.

 

Today had been one of those days. Captain Adel had been sent into a flying rage by something, and it affected the mood of the entire platoon. They had been separated for a moment while Blake did desk duty, punishment for an unspecified crime. Without even a second thought Blake had headed over to Yang on the couch, her head softly falling onto Yang's shoulder.

“Long day?” Yang asked.

“Yeah,” Blake said. She sighed heavily, releasing the stress of a long day with an angry Captain Adel as she stared at the TV. “What's this?”

“Some show called _21 Jump Street_ ,” Yang answered. “S'about cops or something. I guess this guy's getting crap because he looks like a kid.”

“Weird. Is it new?”

“Yeah, premiered today.”

 

Slowly, Yang rested her head on Blake's, happy to just sit in silence and watch the drama unfold. One of the cops had just taken out a group of robbers, disabling their car and ordering them to get out of their now wrecked vehicle.

“These cops have terrible trigger discipline,” Blake commented.

Yang couldn't help but laugh. “That's all you can think about?”

“Well, I mean, look at this guy,” Blake said, gesturing to the main character. “He's going to shoot one of them if he keeps his finger in the trigger guard. How'd he pass the weapons exams?”

“I dunno. Maybe don't think about it too much?”

“Oh, come on,” Blake said as the newbie was distracted by the very robbers he was trying to apprehend. “Who let this clown into the police force?”

 

And yet, as nice as this moment with Blake was, listening to her criticize every aspect of some new cop show, Yang could still detect a distance that stemmed from her _faux pas_ a few weeks ago.

“Hey, Blake,” Yang asked during a commercial break, “I didn't make you uncomfortable, right?”

“Huh? When?”

“You know, when we were playing _Diplomacy_ with Ruby and Weiss?”

“Oh, that,” Blake said. “I mean, not really, but...I dunno, it was a weird day. It felt weird, you know?”

 

In truth, Yang _didn't_ know. She had always been open about her relationships, and her sexuality. To deny that would be rejecting half of her identity. Well, at least she hadn't hurt Blake, or driven her away. At least she had that going for her.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure we were still good.”

“Yeah,” Blake said, “you're fine.”

 

The two sat in silence for a little while longer, seeing the events unfold before them.

 

“It's still a weird show,” Blake commented.

 

* * *

 

 

Weiss stood in the middle of their room, clad in her pajamas as she tried to retrace her steps. Something was off, and it was obvious that Weiss would never get to sleep until she had fixed it.

“Alright, really, Ruby,” she said, “where is it?”

“I said I don't know.”

“Well, I have to have water by my side if I'm going to sleep. So where's my canteen?”

“Weiss, if I knew, I'd be handing it to you.”

 

Weiss ignored Ruby as she raided every cabinet, every drawer, hoping to find her canteen so she could finally go to bed. The fact that lights out had been called five minutes ago didn't seem to faze her. The commotion drew Yang out of her bed, groggily walking over to the shared room.

“Hey,” Yang said, yawning. “S'this your canteen?”

“Yes!” Weiss ran over, snatching up the precious item out of Yang's hands. “Where was it?”

“Y'left it on the counter next to the sink. Can y'all pipe down a bit? Trying to sleep over here.”

 

Now relieved, and able to properly finish her nightly routine, Weiss shut off the lights, sending the room into darkness. Another minor crisis solved.

 

* * *

 

 

Blake really should be studying Arabic right now. She knew there was a test coming up. She knew that she had difficulty pronouncing some words. And yet, she was still taking time out of her day to be with Yang.

 

Was their room always this hot? Blake wasn't sure. She had never really noticed it before.

 

It had to be hot, right? Why else would Yang be taking her shirt off? _Oh, wait, right_. The hidden second option was that Blake and Yang had just wrapped up another heavy makeout session, and Yang had heavily implied she wanted to take things further.

 

But now, seeing Yang in ways Blake had once avoided out of respect, it was too much. She wasn't ready for this. She didn't have feelings for Yang this intimate. Blake had realized too late that her attraction to Yang was less a deep love, and more a lust.

 

“Wait, stop,” Blake said, holding up a hand and slamming her eyes shut.

“What?” Yang asked, concerned. “What's wrong?”

“I...I can't do this,” Blake said, walking past Yang and heading to the door. “This is too much. I'm...I'm sorry.”

“What do you mean?” Yang demanded, frowning.

 

There wasn't a better way for Blake to voice it. Even if she wanted to be gentle, she didn't have the words.

“Yang, I've cherished every moment I've had with you this past month. But...I don't have these kinds of feelings for you. I'm just now understanding that I've led you on this entire time. I'm so sorry.”

“How – just – but, Blake,” Yang sputtered, tears coming out of her eyes, “I _love_ you.”

“I love you too, Yang,” Blake said. “But not this way.”

 

The tension was palpable. Blake could tell Yang was battling a massive rage burning within her, an anger she hadn't seen since Sergeant Raines had left. But, also within Yang, there was an equally intense hearbreak, and this time there wasn't a convenient third party to pin the blame on. It was all squarely on Blake. Blake couldn't help but whisper “I'm sorry” as she left, heading to somewhere, _anywhere_ , in an attempt to escape the fallout from the bomb she had dropped.

 

* * *

 

 

Blake and Yang avoided each other for a week, only speaking to each other in brief passing, or at formations. However, Blake knew they couldn't keep it up forever. One of them had to confront what had happened. She decided it was probably better to get it done sooner rather than later.

 

Yang was about to leave their room, no doubt out to find friends and go out on the town again. Just as she was about to start tying up her boots, Blake walked over and stood in front of Yang, causing her to look up, wondering what she wanted.

 

“Yeah?” Yang asked, indifferent.

“So...do you want to talk about what happened last week?”

Yang shrugged, going back to her boots. “What's there to talk about?”

“Yang, we can't pretend like none of that happened. We're still a team.”

 

Yang stopped, sighing heavily. She sat upright, staring at Blake with weary eyes.

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Blake? I thought you were going to be different, that we could have actually _been_ something. But you just...fucking went and did the same thing everyone else does to me. I'm getting tired of it, it's not fun to fall for someone, and then have them fuck off into the wind because they _don't feel that way_.”

 

“I wish I didn't have to have done that,” Blake said, trying to find the right words. “I...I didn't know when we started.”

“Then why the hell did you let me get that far?” Yang challenged. “Why'd you fucking lead me on?”

“I didn't _mean_ to,” Blake said defensively.

“Yeah. Whatever. Keep telling yourself that, Blake.”

 

Yang cut off any further conversation by lacing up her boots, and stomping out of their room, leaving Blake to wrestle with the weight of her own decision and Yang's words.

 

* * *

 

 

God fucking dammit. Blake just _had_ to press it, didn't she? She just _had_ to want to talk about it.

 

Couldn't Blake see that Yang was still in pain? That she didn't _want_ to talk?

 

Not even her familiar friends could make this better. Yang's sour mood only killed the scene, and she excused herself to return to a home away from home – O'Donnel's Pub. They knew her there. Mike wouldn't ask questions, he'd just keep the drinks coming as long as Yang had money. Even better, Mike would keep it all under the table. As long as nobody saw her walk in or out, she was good.

 

Yang ripped her patrol cap off as she walked in, tucking it into a pocket. She headed right to the bar, occupying her usual spot.

“Hey, Xiao Long,” Mike said, cleaning a glass. “Usual?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “Long Island Iced Tea, if you would.”

Mike nodded, and began mixing her drink. The vodka would be nice tonight. Maybe knocking back one or two would let her forget this terrible day.

 

One came, and she downed it with little thought. Another Iced Tea, and then another, and another and another until she had long lost track of time. She was barely conscious of Mike dialing somebody, words far away asking for someone to come get her. Ten, or twenty, or maybe even forty minutes later, she felt somebody helping her up. Oh, hey, it was Corporal Ibarra, and Private Watkins. Cool! She didn't know they came here. How nice of them to swing by.

 

“Come on, Sarge,” Ibarra said, “Adel wants you back at barracks, pronto.”

“Aw, how cooooooooooooool,” Yang slurred, barely able to keep her head up. Had it always been this heavy?

 

She didn't remember the walk back to the barracks, or actually even getting in. What she did remember was standing sloppily in front of Captain Adel.

“You've gotta be kidding me,” Adel said as she looked Yang over. “Alright. Belladonna, get her to bed. When she wakes up, tell her I want her in my office at 0800 hours.”

 

* * *

 

 

The captain did _not_ look happy. She looked positively livid, in fact. Captain Adel had even discarded her signature sunglasses, staring at Yang as if she'd like to stomp her guts out right then and there. Yang half-wished she would: anything to take her mind off the pounding headache she was nursing.

“Sergeant Xiao Long,” Adel said after an agonizingly long time, “you know _damn well_ the Corp's regulations regarding alcohol.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Yang said.

“So do you want to explain to me why two of your soldiers had to drag you out of O'Donnel's Pub and back to barracks last night, _drunk?_ ”

“No excuse, ma'am,” Yang replied, steeling herself for what was to come.

“Yeah. That's what I thought,” the Captain said, ice-cold. “Xiao Long, you're a damn good sergeant. I would kill to have five more like you. At least, I _would_ if you didn't have this issue with alcohol. I've been far more lenient than many others would – or should – be, but I can't help you forever.”

 

Yang swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, ma'am.”

“So, effective immediately, you're earning three demerits for being drunk in uniform. I want you to do two tours with the Rubber Duck after duty every day for a week.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And hear this. I better not hear of you _looking_ at alcohol again. If you so much as even _think_ about taking a drink, I'm going to make sure you get kicked out of here so fast you won't have time to blink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, ma'am.”

 

“Good. Now get the hell out of my sight,” Captain Adel said, waving a hand to shoo her away.

Yang saluted, performing an about-face to leave Adel's office.


	30. May, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promotions roll in, RWBY and JNPR have their first taste of field exercises as leaders. Blake has a spiritual encounter.

Promotions had finally come in. As Captain Adel, Lieutenant Scarlatina, First Sergeant Daichi, and Lieutenant Alistair graduated, the new wave of officers came in. CFVY, as the four came to be known as, each earned a commission as a team heading straight to Korea. Together, they'd help lead a company of troops in an infantry division against North Korean incursions.

 

Back at Beacon, however, Yang became the company's new First Sergeant, while Ruby, Weiss, Pyrrha and Blake each were promoted to Lieutenant. Ren, Jaune and Nora each were promoted to Sergeant First Class, making them second to Yang as senior NCOs. A temporary captain had been assigned from another company while the promotion board observed, waiting to see which of the new lieutenants would be best suited to the position of Captain.

 

To say there wasn't any pressure was ignorant. The stress on the four junior officers was immense, with each one feeling the heat with every move they made. It was as if every single decision, each grade they received, was another hidden mark for or against them.

 

The tests were coming up soon, both for academics and leadership. Right before finals week was to begin, a field exercise involving the Lighthouse Brigade was scheduled. The new officers went into overdrive, learning as fast as possible how to implement the command and control strategies Beacon demanded of their officers. At least they didn't have to learn this _ad hoc –_ senior officers acting on behalf of the US Army would be there to guide them along the way.

 

* * *

 

 

For this month's field exercise, Weiss had been chosen, seemingly at random, to act as Bravo Company's temporary captain. Their mission was to probe rumored enemy positions, and to report back to battalion headquarters with their results. Ruby had been dispatched forward with platoon, part of the forward element. In theory, they'd have first contact with any enemy. Ramirez, now a Corporal, was acting as her radio operator, Ruby's link to Weiss's command center.

 

Weiss's voice crackled over the radio as she began speaking through it, safe and ensconced in her command center.

“This is Crossroads,” she said, “all callsigns be advised, break.”

The radio clicked again. She was probably looking for the relevant intel.

“The paramilitary forces in the area have been alerted to your pre...pre...”

She repeated “pre” a few times, trying to form what word Ruby didn't know. Her babbling increased in speed, until she finally gave up.

“ _THEY'RE COMING,”_ Weiss shouted over the radio.

“Understood, Crossroads, over.” Ramirez responded, barely containing his laughter.

“Fall in a hole, Ramirez. Crossroads out.” Weiss replied.

 

“Alright, everyone,” Ruby said, calming down her command squad, “keep focused. We're taking that hill.”

They marched forward, heading to a small hilltop nearby. It would provide a good overwatch position for them to take note of the terrain, and hopefully spot any enemies that may be approaching them.

“Bravo 1-1,” Blake said over the radio, “this is Bravo 1-2, how copy, over?”

Ruby took the radio from Ramirez directly. “This is 1-1, send traffic, over.”

“We've spotted a squad-sized element heading east-southeast roughly...about half a klick from your position. Keep an eye out for them, over.”

“Understood, 1-2. Thanks for the heads up, out.”

 

Ruby's platoon captured the hilltop, settling on it to observe as per their orders. They had a good view of the road that would supposedly be used by the paramilitary forces (really members of Beacon's Rogue Platoon in this exercise), and Ruby had ordered them to spread out and form a perimeter, ensuring their front was protected from any attacks. With having the high ground, it would be easy for them to see any attacks coming from the road.

 

Here, they waited, watching the road for the next twenty minutes. Scattered reports came in from other elements of Bravo, updates on positions, unconfirmed sightings of enemy troops, and the occasional order clarification.

“This is Bravo 1-3,” Pyrrha reported, “enemy recon team spotted at grid square Charlie-fiver-six, over.”

Ruby looked over her map, tracing her position to the one called out by Pyrrha. All in order, that was a good grid square.

 

Except...hold on. Wait a second.

 

That was _behind_ them.

 

“Platoon!” Ruby shouted, turning around, “they're behind us! Prepare for contact!”

“How'd they get behind us?!” someone shouted out.

“Ask questions later!” a sergeant retorted. “Scan, scan, scan!”

 

Minutes passed, but it felt like hours with the entire platoon on edge. The scene was quiet, save for the occasional bird chirping. Ruby's deathgrip on her rifle was beginning to make her tired. The tension she had in her very bones threatened to break her if she wasn't careful.

“Maybe...maybe they're not out there,” Ramirez said, laughing nervously.

 

The outbreak of rapid rifle fire destroyed that theory. Ruby ordered the platoon to open fire, replying in kind to Rogue Platoon's incursion. The firefight lasted for all of fifteen minutes before the order was given to cease fire. Once again, Rogue Platoon elements led by Yang had successfully annihilated another element of Bravo. Ruby thought she was almost doing it on purpose at this point, if only to show her superiority to the junior members of the company.

 

All in all, a good exercise. Rogue Platoon was praised for their ingenuity, while Bravo received high accolades for reacting quickly to the sudden appearance of enemy forces behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

“I told you, I don't believe in ghosts.”

 

Weiss, Ruby, Yang and Blake stood outside the abandoned pier, on one of the rare nights where none of them had duties to attend to. Supposedly, a group of sailors returning home from the Pacific had perished on these docks when a Japanese sub, unaware the war had ended, sank their transport in the final hours of World War II.

 

“So then go check it out,” Yang challenged. “They say you can still hear the screams out there.”

“I don't have to take orders from _you,_ ” Weiss retorted. “You're just a First Sergeant, after all.”

“Ooh, pulling the rank card, huh? Alright, I'll let the rest of the company know the unshakeable Lieutenant Schnee is too afraid to walk around on an old pier-”

_“_ _Mein Gott, du unmögliches kleines...”_ Weiss shook her head, stomping onto the pier in some vain attempt to prove Yang wrong, and show she was unafraid of the local legends that told tales of dead men unable to pass on from the afterlife.

 

“There!” she shouted as she approached the middle of the abandoned locale. “No ghosts, Yang! Will you admit it's just a silly story now?”

Out of the blue, a deafening explosion. On instinct, the four took to whatever cover they could find. It wasn't the Fourth of July yet, there shouldn't be any explosions. No firework trails could be seen in the sky. What had caused it?

“O-okay, Yang,” Weiss shouted again, “you don't need to play tricks on me!”

“Dude, I'm as freaked the hell out as you are!”

 

“Less talk, more _get out of here, maybe?”_ Blake asked, perhaps rhetorically as they scrambled to regroup. Fun night over. Who cared if the stories were real or not? In this moment, right now, it was all too real for them, as if it was 1945 all over again. Ruby and Weiss both swore up and down that, as they retreated, they could hear the screams of dying men sinking into the abyss. Blake and Yang claimed they were too focused on running away to actually pay attention to any of it.

 

* * *

 

 

That night on the docks had shaken Blake, and not just because they had heard one of the most unexplainable sounds imaginable. She hadn't been much of a practicing Shinto at home in Hawaii, occasionally heading to the shrine in Wailuku when _soba_ was feeling particularly impure. _Ojiisan_ had never much talked about adhering to the Shinto ways, and his funeral was decidedly _not_ in Shinto tradition.

 

Perhaps more importantly than reminiscing over her childhood, was the fact that for the first time in a long while, Blake felt impure. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt compelled to perform _harae_ , or any specific ritual of purification. She didn't even remember the last time she had brought out her kimono, a hand-me-down from _soba_ that she cherished.

 

The overall feeling of guilt, of toying with spirits that she felt should never have been disturbed, hung over her throughout the days. This dread was too much to be cleansed with just one ritual. She needed to totally purify herself. It was just Blake's luck, then, that she heard of a new Shinto shrine that had been built in Stockton.

 

She had been able to pass off any early morning duties to others, and been granted a special pass from the command staff to make a trip to Stockton for the morning _misogi_ , or water purification. All she needed was to convince Yang to take her there, easier said than done.

 

Blake didn't expect Yang to understand, and like predicted, she didn't.

“I don't get it,” Yang said, leaning against her desk, “why not just find any old waterfall?”

“It's more than that,” Blake explained. “I need to do it ritually. It's special. It's like...I dunno, you don't call any random room a church, right?”

“I mean, I've never really been big on church, but-”

“Just – for the sake of comparison, Yang.”

 

“No, I guess not,” Yang said, shrugging. She looked away for a bit, spinning a pencil around on her desk. “This is really important to you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Blake said softly. “We messed with things we shouldn't have. I need to make this right.”

Yang kept spinning the pencil, like a hellish out of control clock. Finally, her hand moved away from it, and she got up, looking Blake in the eyes.

“Alright,” Yang said. “I'll do it.”

Blake immediately hugged her. “Thank you so much, Yang. I owe you.”

“Yeah,” Yang muttered. “Let's not make it a habit.”

 

Blake prayed the entire way over to Stockton silently, hoping in part that they'd survive the trip, and also that the purification would soothe her soul. Yang dropped her off at the shrine, peeling off almost immediately. Blake exhaled, rolling her shoulders in nervous anticipation.

 

She changed into her white kimono, and put a similarly-colored headband on. Once done, she followed the others to begin the spirit shaking, vibrating her upper torso. Light calisthenics followed, as the leader called out incantations, followed up by special invocations to activate the spirit. Blake and the others spoke with him, affirming that yes, they were realizing their own spirits, and were unifying with the _kami_ around them.

 

_Sake_ was handed out, and as she approached the waterfall, she was told to spit the _sake_ in three mouthfuls into it. She did so, feeling the burn of the alcohol only briefly.

_“Harai tamae kiyome tamae rokkon shōjō,”_ Blake chanted repeatedly as she entered the waterfall, asking for the _kami_ to wash away her impurity.

She felt the water cascade over her, soaking her hair and kimono all at once. At first, the cold water just irritated her, but soon, it was like a wave of relief began to wash over her. Blake felt all at once the guilt and anxiety pass, as if the _kami_ of the pier had forgiven her for her transgression.

 

The moment in the waterfall didn't last any longer than about a minute or two, and when it was over, she found that she really wasn't that wet at all. Still, she dried off, paid her respects at the shrine, prayed for good fortune in the future, and waited for Yang to take her back to Beacon.

 

It had been a long, long time indeed since she had last felt this good. Blake could now look forward to the end of the semester, and the beginning of summer break, with a truly balanced soul. As long as she avoided any future interactions with potentially vengeful spirits, she could find relief in herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Unusually, Bravo was on the march. It was early in the morning, far earlier than any of them would usually be up even for morning formation. Weiss had given the order for an early morning march, which had been approved by the higher-ups for some nebulous purpose. Blake was given the unlucky duty of overseeing the march, walking with them as they suffered. Further punishing them was another order given by Weiss, forbidding anyone from drinking from their canteens on the march.

 

Blake heard low talking behind her. Technically they were supposed to be marching in silence, but she wasn't going to make their morning any worse than it had to be.

“Lt. Belladonna,” Ramirez called from the third rank.

“What is it?”

“Permission to speak, ma'am.”

“Go ahead.”

 

“We've got six companies, ma'am.”

“That we do,” Blake responded.

“So why are we the only ones marching at three in the morning?”

“Why do you think, Ramirez?”

“Well, ma'am,” Ramirez said, “I think Lt. Schnee hates Bravo Company.”

 

Blake looked behind for a second, chuckling quietly. “Lt. Schnee does _not_ hate Bravo Company, Ramirez. She just hates _you_.”

“ _Yes, ma'am!”_ Ramirez sounded off. She could hear them laughing behind her. Good – that'd take the edge off of them this morning.


	31. August, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang gets sick, Ruby receives a promotion, and Blake and Ren rebel against the school.

“Jaune, is this some kind of a joke?”

 

The eight friends had exchanged their schedules for the new semester, just as they always did. There were relatively few surprises for the last half of 1987. They all had another volley of language courses ahead of them. Pyrrha had numerous medical-related classes still ahead of her. Ruby and Nora both had their final physics classes in store. Weiss and Ren were subjected to another round of torturous chemistry taught by the impossible-to-please Colonel Markos. Yang cursed every deity she knew of when she saw that her schedule consisted entirely of biology with Professor Rossini. Finally, Jaune and Blake found themselves squaring off with the final elements of their history degrees. None of this raised any eyebrows.

 

And yet, here they were gathered around a piece of paper, all staring at Jaune's schedule that had _choir_ of all things in it. Weiss clutched the paper in her hands, confused and angry all at the same time.

 

“Um,” Jaune said, his eyes darting back and forth. “No?”

“Then why the hell are you in choir?” Weiss demanded. “You've never _once_ shown an interest in singing.”

Jaune shrugged. “I did musical theater for a few years back home. It's like riding a bike, isn't it?”

“Oh boy...” Yang said, grinning ear to ear. “I'm gonna make some popcorn for this show, who else wants some?”

“I did _not_ just hear you say that,” Weiss said, blinking in astonishment. “I've been part of the Shining Beacon Choir the entire time I've been here, Jaune. What makes you think you can just waltz in and pick up on it?”

 

“It's just singing. I had a lot of chorus parts when I did shows.”

“ _Just singing?_ Jaune, do you even have any idea what voice type you are?”

He shrugged again, quickly becoming irritated at this interrogation. “I always did alto parts when I sang.”

Weiss sighed heavily, putting a hand on her head. “ _Jaune._ You _imbecile._ Alto is a _female_ voice type. Are you a bass? Tenor? That's important, you know.”

“I don't know, I figure Major Nevin will put me where he needs me.”

“Major Nevin can't place you if you have no idea what your range is! We're going to be singing _Fri_ _e_ _de auf Erden_ this season, if you screw this choir over because you can't keep up, I'm not going to help you! I will personally hold _you_ responsible!”

 

“Alright, alright, calm down, Weiss, okay?” Jaune said. “I'll work hard. I don't let my friends down.”

“It's not just your friends on the line here, Jaune,” Weiss warned. “It's the entire choir. We get graded _collectively_ on our performances, and every wrong note counts against us. If you ruin my chances at a commission because you don't know your range-”

“I know what I'm doing, Weiss, okay? Give me a chance?”

“ _Fine,”_ Weiss shot back. “I'm watching you. Don't forget that.”

“Don't worry, Weiss,” Yang chimed in, still smiling. “Jaune-y boy won't forget your eyes on him.”

 

“Wait a second,” Blake interjected. “Didn't you tell me you were talking to some girl, Jaune? Julie or something?”

“Oh no,” Weiss said, quickly putting together the puzzle. “You haven't been talking to Julie Gartner, have you?”

“Uh...I have,” Jaune admitted. “She...she said that the choir's been hurting for guys.”

“You didn't join choir _just_ because of a girl, did you?” Blake asked.

“Um...no. No.”

“You're so bad at lying,” Weiss retorted, tossing Jaune's schedule back at him. “Don't make me regret this, Jaune. Tell your little _girlfriend_ that I'll be having a 'chat' with her soon.”

 

Weiss stomped off after delivering her ultimatum, leaving the others to their devices.

“She's not my-” Jaune called, vainly as Weiss quickly got out of earshot. Not that she would want to listen anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

The semester was off to a less than great start for Yang. She had become violently ill one day after eating at the mess hall. Dozens of other students were affected, with Commandant Ozpin vowing to get to the bottom of the cause of their illness. Until then, the mess hall was closed down, and anyone with food poisoning restricted to their rooms.

 

Of course, with Yang barely able to stand, let alone get herself to the bathroom to puke her guts out, it fell on one of them to help take care of her. Blake drew the short straw. Yang's bed looked more like a mass of pillows, with her practically drowning in blankets. How was she even able to move? Wasn't she hot under all that?

 

Blake wasn't exactly sure how whatever Yang had was transmitted, but she was sure she didn't want to get it. She had gotten a surgical mask to protect herself, and wore latex gloves whenever she entered the room to help Yang, but other than that, kept her distance.

 

Yang had scarcely even recognized Blake when she first came in, her long blonde hair covering her eyes. She slowly moved it away when she heard Blake enter the room, blinking just as slowly.

“What's with the mask?”

“I don't want to get sick.”

“Oh. Smart. This sucks.”

“Yeah, I bet. Want me to get you anything?”

Yang shook her head slowly, closing her eyes. “I just wanna sleep. Can't, though.”

 

“Oh,” Blake said. “Why not?”

“I dunno. Wish I did.”

“Well, if you need anything, I'm right here.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Blake.”

 

Blake nodded, stepping away to give Yang her space. Acting preemptively, Blake had obtained a large bowl for Yang to puke into if needed, though she really hoped Yang wouldn't have to use it. Likewise, a giant water bottle was also nearby. Mom had told her that the loss of fluids was dangerous, and Yang would need all she could get, especially water. It probably wouldn't taste that great to her, but it was better than nothing.

 

With not much that Yang really needed from her, Blake went to studying, going through the Arabic she still struggled over. This was quickly interrupted by Yang retching. Moving quickly, Blake rushed over to Yang, holding her hair back as she puked into the bowl. It was at this moment that Blake was really, _really_ glad she had brought a mask.

 

“Ugh, fuck,” Yang muttered, “how much did I get in my hair?”

“Don't worry about it. Here, take this.”

Blake handed Yang a small washcloth, which she used to clean up her face. Yang grunted in barely-concealed disgust, flopping back onto her bed.

“Hey, Blake,” Yang said, wincing as she kept tasting whatever had come up.

“Yeah?”

“Is this what you meant when you said you loved me?”

 

Blake stared back at her friend, wondering what in the hell she was saying. She tilted her head, about to ask, but deciding against it. Yang seemed to have figured out she was confused anyway.

“On... _that day,_ ” Yang said, trying very hard to avoid saying something like _broke up_ , “you said you loved me, but not like that. Is this what you meant? Taking care of me?”

Blake drew a deep breath, stifled by the mask she wore. It was a tough call. She certainly didn't expect Yang to confront her about it when all she could do was sit there in bed, contemplating things like that all day. But at that same time, she couldn't just let it lie, tell her to go to sleep, and ignore it.

 

“Like I told you then,” Blake finally answered, choosing her words carefully. “I cherished every minute I spent with you. I didn't think this is how we would end up, but I'm glad we did.”

Yang seemed to accept this, before staring at the ceiling, mulling it over some more. “That's not really an answer, though,” she said.

“I know,” Blake said, turning back to Arabic for a moment. “Drink some water, Yang.”

 

* * *

 

 

To the surprise of Weiss, Blake, Pyrrha, Jaune, and most of all, herself, Ruby had received the highly-sought after promotion to Captain. She had received her double silver bars after a full week of classes, with work for her to begin immediately. It was the perfect time to break out the figurative champagne, and set the tone for the company.

 

But not all was happy in Bravo. Unnoticed to most, Ren and Blake immediately departed from formations, oftentimes going off-campus or just beyond it. Nora was well aware of their rendezvous, and had sworn herself to secrecy.

 

After all, she had gotten them the cigarettes in the first place.

 

Blake had thought it was a one-time thing, just something she would do once to claim she did it and then ignore for the rest of her life. And yet, here she was, sneaking off with Ren to smoke when the stress hit them, or bad times warranted a mint-infused getaway. Usually, looking out on the Bay relaxed her. Today, though, it just made her depressed.

 

“Isn't it terrible?” Ren asked, exhaling a hefty puff of smoke.

“What?”

“Here we are, two perfectly competent officers, passed over for Ruby.”

Blake scoffed. “I don't think they'd call us 'competent' if they knew we were out here smoking.”

 

Ren grunted in half-hearted agreement, returning to his cigarette. His words rolled around in Blake's head, just the _way_ he talked about Ruby was...odd. She didn't remember him having a particular dislike for her before. Come to think of it, she didn't remember him disliking _anyone_ in her circle of friends.

 

“Ren?” she asked, tapping away ashes.

“Yeah?”

“You alright? You seem kinda bent out of shape.”

“Nah. I'm good.”

“Are you _sure?_ ” Blake prodded. “I mean, we all wanted the promotion to Captain, but-”

“Yes, I'm sure,” Ren shot back harshly. “Of _course_ I'm alright with Ruby fucking Rose getting the one promotion I wanted. It's not like that affects my chances of getting a commission or anything.”

 

Blake furrowed her brow, surprised by his sudden about-face. What was with him?

“Ren, jeez, calm down, it's not like -”

“It's not like _what,_ Blake? This is all I have. If I don't succeed here and get my commission, it'd finish me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nora and I aren't like the rest of you. We don't _have_ families back home helping us along. It's always just been us. Ruby's only done well this far because her dad is friends with the Commandant.”

 

Blake laughed, shaking her head. “That's a pretty heavy one there, Ren.”

“I don't need proof. I just know it. You don't get to be special forces and not have a few friends along the way.”

“Whatever. I guess we'll see if she deserved the promotion or not.”

“I guess we will.”

Blake put out her cigarette, leaving Ren alone with his thoughts, his theories, and heading back to campus. She had been away too long already; any longer, and people might start asking questions.


	32. September, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang gets a strange letter.

“Yo! Xiao Long!” Echo's First Sergeant, Harley Young, waved Yang down as she headed to her first morning class.

“Hey there, Young, what's up?”

“Was checking my mail at Post,” he explained, handing her a letter. “They wanted me to give this to you, said you never come check your mail.”

“Well, yeah,” Yang said, taking the letter and examining it. “My dad lives here, nobody sends me mail.”

Young shrugged. “Well, somebody sent you mail anyway. See you around, Xiao Long.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Yang replied, looking over the envelope. No return address. Weird. How did the postal service even take it without a return address? _Whatever._ No time to read it now. Yang stuck the letter in her backpack, heading off to class.

 

After classes for the day, Yang returned to her room with the mysterious letter, opening it as she headed into her dorm. The contents looked normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a folded up piece of paper inside.

 

Except it was written in a language she couldn't read. What the hell was this? Japanese? Korean?

 

She heard Weiss in the next room over, practicing her singing for choir. Weiss would probably know what this was. Yang headed into the opposite dorm, knocking lightly on the door as she entered. Weiss frowned, angry at the interruption for a moment until she saw who it was, relaxing some.

“Uh, hello, Yang,” she said. “What's that?”

“Letter someone sent me, but I can't read it. You know what this is?”

 

Furrowing her brow, Weiss took the letter when Yang offered it out, reading the script, and then rereading it again, her mouth moving as she voiced out the sounds each character was making.

“This...this is in Chinese, Yang. It's the same dialect of Chinese they speak in Beijing.”

Yang took a sharp breath in. “What's it say?” she asked, but Yang had a pretty good idea of who wrote it.

“Um...” Weiss said, hesitating. “It says...'if you want to know the truth about your mother, come to this address,' and then it...well, the address is right there. Yang, what's going on?”

 

“Nothing you gotta worry about, Weiss,” Yang said, snatching up the letter from her friend's hands. “Just...do me a favor, yeah?”

“Well, that depends on the favor.”

“Don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Blake.”

“Yang,” Weiss asked, with a growing panic in her voice, “please, what's going on? If you're in some kind of danger, I can help you-”

“Weiss,” Yang warned. “I told you. _Don't worry about it._ It's my own shit, okay?”

 

Weiss huffed, but relented, only nodding sadly in response. “Alright. I won't tell anyone. But you _have_ to tell me what's happening here, alright?”

“I will,” Yang replied. “One of these days. But not today.”

 

Yang retreated to her room, looking at the address listed in the letter. That was in Chinatown, as expected. If this is what Yang thought it was, she couldn't do this in her uniform. Yang changed into a set of civilian clothes, and made her way out of the barracks and to her bike as fast as possible, ducking and weaving so as not to be spotted out of uniform. She drove out of the gate where she had made friends with the guards, people she knew wouldn't ask questions, and would stonewall anyone looking into it.

 

This was either a great decision, or the fastest way to kill her career possible.

 

* * *

 

 

Yang took off her helmet, placing it on her bike that she had parked outside the address. If this just wasn't the textbook definition of shady, she would have been worried. The place was a run-down convenience store that had clearly seen better days, advertising in no less than three different languages. Somehow, she doubted the staff inside was fluent in anything other than Chinese.

 

Reluctantly, Yang walked in, where a bell affixed to the door rang as she crossed the threshold. She looked around, seeing absolutely nobody. The shelves had some products on them, but not really much, and she doubted the refrigerator in the back was actually keeping anything cold. A fan pointed musty air at a spot where a cashier would have been, if there was a cash register to operate. Everything about this place was giving her bad vibes, and she wanted to just turn and run, but the curiosity was overwhelming. Yang _had_ to know at this point.

 

From a back room, an older Chinese man walked in, smoking a cigarette. “You Xiao Long?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Who wants to know?”

“Yeah, you're her, all right. C'mon, she's in the back.”

“Wait up, buddy,” Yang said. “ _Who's_ in the back? How's your English so damn good? What is this place?”

 

“You'll see, because I was fucking born here, and it's a convenience store,” he said, sticking out a finger for each question she had as he answered it. “You done?”

Yang shook her head, not happy with the answers. What choice did she have, though? “Fine, lead the way I guess.”

The man nodded, and waved her to come to the back with him. He led he down a narrow hallway, lit with a red light that buzzed strongly as she passed by. She could smell smoke, but it wasn't from his cigarette. No, that was weed. It was mixing with something else though, something stronger, but she couldn't place the smell.

 

Eventually, she was led into a den of sorts, where a group of people, men and women, young and old, terrifying and nonthreatening alike, had gathered. Some were smoking, others drinking, but the one constant was all were seated before one woman.

 

Raven Branwen.

 

Yang was offered a chair closest to her mother, and slowly, the strangers filtered out of the room, leaving only the estranged daughter and mother.

 

“I suppose you have a lot of questions,” Raven said, breaking the silence. “Tea?”

“I don't want any damn tea,” Yang said, seething in anger. “What the fuck is this?”

“I owe you an explanation for a lot of things, Yang. Why I left. Why I went to China.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Yang replied, folding her arms. “Well, come on, they're going to notice I'm not at Beacon pretty quick.”

 

“You're making a terrible mistake, going to that school.”

“Who the fuck are _you_ to tell me what _mistakes_ are? Do you think I don't know what you did?”

If Raven was affected by Yang's words, she didn't show it. “You don't understand, Yang. You're growing into such a strong woman, such a great warrior, but you're blinded, like I was when I went there.”

 

“Okay,” Yang said, getting out of her chair, “if this is some fucking commie shit, I'm checking out now. I'm not you, mom, I'm not a fucking _traitor_. I'm not going to betray my goddamn country.”

“I never asked you to do that. You think America's this perfect society, but I've seen how it really is, Yang. We're no better than the Soviets.”

“You _defected!_ ” Yang shouted. “You turned your back on Dad, on Mom, on Qrow, _everyone!_ And for fucking _what?!_ You know what, I bet it was _you_ who killed that ARVN agent! You pulled that trigger, Raven!”

 

“So, Qrow told you, then.” Raven sighed, shaking her head. “Well, I'm not surprised. No, I did not kill Chuyen, Yang. That wasn't my idea. It wasn't your uncle Qrow's, either. We were _ordered_ to do it.”

“Why should I believe you? When you betrayed everyone I care about?”

“Did you know Commandant Ozpin was with us in Vietnam?”

Yang paused, furrowing her brow. “What are you talking about? He was here, teaching at Beacon.”

“Oh, of course he was. But he was in Vietnam too. He was with us in Nha Trang Bay.”

“You're lying,” Yang declared. “You're just trying to confuse me.”

“Go ahead. Ask him next time you see him. Ask him who pulled the trigger that day, because it wasn't me. It wasn't the First Sarge. It wasn't Qrow. So who did?”

 

“What's your point?”

“How much do you _really_ know about Commandant Ozpin?”

“Every student at Beacon that he's admitted has done great things. They find success, some way, some how.”

Raven smiled knowingly. “And why do you think that is?”

Yang shrugged. How could she know? Didn't most of them just achieve it on their own?

“Old Man Oz plans these things. He has friends in the Pentagon, in the CIA. Half of the high brass have been his friend at one point or another. I know because he told me. Why do you think we weren't all court-martialed after we killed that ARVN agent?”

 

“Uncle Qrow told me it was because the CIA never declassified everything,” Yang said.

“Hmm. I wonder who got them to do that?”

“Stop with this fucking innuendo,” Yang warned. “What's the truth?”

“The truth is that 'truth' is hard to come by. A story of victory for one person is a story of defeat for someone else.” Raven sipped her tea, smiling slightly as she looked at Yang. “You know, you and your friends may as well be poster children for Beacon. Men and women, from all corners of America – and even a _German,_ imagine that – all coming together to defend the nation. It's adorable, really.”

 

“It's what Americans do,” Yang retorted, still frowning. Why was Raven giving her the runaround?

“Not _all_ of them,” she said. “Your Uncle Qrow and I didn't join Beacon to _be_ American soldiers. We did it to learn how to _kill_ them.”

A gasp escaped Yang's lips. She desperately tried to search for logic and reason in what Raven was saying. Realizing she couldn't find any, she became more terrified. Raven just sat there, calmly drinking her tea and watching her.

“Ooh,” Raven said. “Daddy and Uncle left that part out, hm? I doubt Qrow ever told you, but he and I are anti-colonialists. Ozpin looked the other way the entire time. And Yang, let me tell you, America is one of the world's biggest colonizers.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Look at your history book,” Raven said, setting her cup down for a moment. “Even before America came into her own following World War 1, we sent expeditionary forces to Korea, to Africa, Japan, Indonesia, China, the Philippines. Hell, even when America wasn't meddling in foreign countries, we were destroying every trace of the native people at home. Remember playing Cowboys and Indians with your sister Ruby?”

 

“So, what, because China doesn't go around colonizing shit, that makes them okay in your book? You were in Viet-fucking-nam, you _fought_ communists, so why the hell are you living among them?”

“The Chinese aren't perfect,” Raven said, “they certainly have their own problems I take issue with. But, they haven't shown themselves to be as imperialist as the Russians, certainly not to the degree us Americans have been. I fully believe American involvement in Vietnam was colonialism in a new form, and so too was the Soviet and Chinese involvement.”

“And yet,” Yang said, furrowing her brow, “you're living in Beijing with the high class of the Chinese Communist Party. Excuse me if I don't quite buy into it.”

“They pamper me because I'm an American special forces defector. I help train their own special forces. I don't have to agree with their ideology completely to live there,” Raven said, taking a sip of her tea. “There's still a chance, you know. You can come with me to China. There's a boat leaving this weekend. I can get you a spot on it, and we can live there together.”

 

Yang stared at the monster before her, mouth agape in terror. What did she think she was saying to her? Did she really expect Yang to be all gung-ho about abandoning her life here in the United States? How did Raven expect this to play out?

 

“No. I'm _not_ throwing away everything I've worked for, not for _you_. You don't deserve the time of day from me.”

 

Yang turned and walked out the same way she came in. Before she could step out the door, Raven called out to her. She knew there was nothing Raven could say to redeem herself in Yang's eyes, but she turned to look back anyway.

 

“I see a better life for us than a constant fight over pointless ideologies.”

“You never wanted to tell me anything,” Yang said, her shoulders drooping. “You just wanted to get me here so you could spout this Chicom crap to me.”

“That's not true,” Raven said, shaking her head. “I wanted you here so I could finally see my beautiful daughter before she was ground up by another war.”

 

“Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?” Yang asked. “What war?”

“It's inevitable, war. I don't know when, or where, but it'll happen soon. I know it will. It's how this world works, Yang. It's what happens to young women like you and me.”

“You're insane,” Yang said, stepping back. “I...I should never have come here.”

 

Yang shook her head, horrified at what she was hearing. This wasn't true. _Couldn't_ be true. She didn't believe a word that Raven was saying, but her words were stuck in Yang's head as she drove back to Beacon. Was she just crazy, or was Raven speaking the truth? Then again, who would be dumb enough to believe the word of a woman who defected to China?

 

* * *

 

 

Raven's words, and the implications behind them, tumbled in Yang's mind as she neglected her duties and rode straight for Sacramento, to Uncle Qrow's house. If anyone, _he'd_ have answers for her. She tossed her helmet on the handlebars as usual, stomping up to his house and practically kicking the door down, finding her uncle in his den, drinking as usual.

 

“Uh, hey there,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Yang's intrusion. “Shouldn't you be at school or something?”

“Raven contacted me today,” Yang said through gritted teeth. “She said some pretty interesting things.”

Qrow's eyes grew wide, and he immediately slammed his flask on the end table, sprinting up to check the windows.

“She didn't follow you here, did she?”

“What?” Yang asked. “No, why would she follow me?”

 

“You have _no idea_ how dangerous Raven is, Yang,” Qrow said, shutting the blinds. “Tell me _exactly_ what she told you.”

Yang frowned, folding her arms. “She told me you two joined Beacon to learn how to kill American soldiers. That you're anti-colonialists. Is that true?”

He studied her intensely, trying to figure out if she was lying as his eyes darted across her face, searching for clues. Finding none, he shut his eyes and sighed, taking back his seat on the only chair in the room.

 

“Yes,” Qrow admitted, almost shameful. “That's what our intentions were. She wanted to disappear after about a year in, thought Ozpin was on to us. No, he trusted us. Thought we were special. Heh. Fucking great idea that turned out to be.”

“She told me Ozpin planned things. That he had, still has, a lot of friends in high places.”

“Yeah,” Qrow nodded. “Lotta CIA spooks and high brass are buddy-buddy with him. Wouldn't surprise me if one of those people wound up as President one of these days.”

 

_Here we go,_ Yang thought. _The big one._

“She also told me that Commandant Ozpin was there at Nha Trang Bay. She implied that he shot that ARVN agent.”

Qrow shot up again, with a renewed vigor in his eyes. “Yang,” he warned, getting in her face, “listen to me very carefully. You cannot believe a word Raven says when it comes to Commandant Ozpin, alright? Ozpin's not a perfect man. He's used his influence to help his friends, to help us cover up a crime, but he did _not_ pull the trigger on any goddamn weapon. Do you understand me?”

 

“Then who the fuck _do_ I believe?” Yang asked. _“You?”_

“I'm not perfect, Yang, but I didn't tell you about that day to turn you against your country. I'm not trying to convince you that everything you've been taught is a lie.”

“Then what the hell _are_ you trying to do? Both of you just told me you only joined the military to figure out how to kill soldiers!” Yang turned away from Qrow, an obvious attempt to hide her tears. “I looked up to you, Uncle Qrow. You and Dad are the only reasons I wanted to join the military. I wanted to be like _you.”_

 

“I'm sorry, Yang.”

“You don't _get_ to be sorry!” Yang shot back. “You're not the one who has to wake up tomorrow knowing the _one goddamn person_ she looked up to is a fucking war criminal! You're not the one whose mother is a goddamn Communist defector!”

“Yang,” Qrow said, oddly calm considering the circumstances, “do you think I don't do that already? I want to eat a gun every day for what I did in Vietnam. I wish I wasn't even related to Raven. The only reason I haven't offed myself yet is because that'd give Raven the satisfaction of being right.”

 

“I just...” Yang said, clutching her head as if that'd make the pain and confusion go away, “fucking... _I hate you._ ”

“What?”

“You heard me. I hate you, Uncle Qrow. I don't want to talk to you again for the rest of my fucking life. I don't want to see you again. I don't want to even _think_ about Ruby talking to you.”

 

Yang headed out the door, pausing before closing it for the last time.

 

“Goodbye, Uncle Qrow.”


	33. October, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang starts a band, and Blake has a difficult conversation.

Footage of Reagan's press conference was on loop for days following the American strike on Iranian oil platforms in the Persian Gulf. Half the brigade believed there was a war with Iran imminent, despite the fact that Reagan himself had said there was no state of war with the Middle Eastern state. Koppel had informed viewers at home that the entire action was in direct response to an Iranian missile striking a Kuwaiti oil tanker, wounding its American captain.

 

Within just Ruby's circle of friends, the responses to the incident were varied. Blake, Ren and Pyrrha argued that the use of force, even in an attempt to protect American civilians, was unjustified. Yang and Jaune claimed that _any_ act of violence against an American deserved to be paid in full, especially when it involved anti-ship missiles. Weiss sat on the fence, playing a neutral ground that held while nations should be responsible for their actions, Reagan's hair-trigger use of the American military was uncalled for.

 

At times, Ruby waffled between supporting Yang and Jaune, and siding with Blake, Ren and Pyrrha. In the end, she concluded there was no good answer. She loathed that every other month, there was news of Americans being killed or wounded. What would happen if the Soviets decided they had had enough of American military retaliation? Would Moscow start acting in the same manner to other unaligned states, punishing the mistreatment of its citizens with airborne infantry raids?

 

Ruby feared the world she was entering as her years in school approached a rapid end. The prospects of war with the Soviet Union were growing ever more likely, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for a potential nuclear exchange.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is our band,” Yang said, “we're Heavy Metal Bitch Skillet. We suck.”

“Damn, Xiao Long,” the drummer said, “at least be a _little_ nice.”

“Shut up, Webb, nobody asked you,” Yang shot back.

“I still say it's a dumb name,” Ramirez added. “I voted for UFO Death Cult.”

“That's even dumber than Yang's name,” the bassist said. “I wanted us to be Unisex Bistro Work Clog.”

 

“I...” Pyrrha muttered, staring at Yang, “how...how did you come up with the name?”

“I dunno. Was making bacon one day, thought about getting my radio. Then Ramirez called me a bitch, thought I didn't hear it, so I told him to do a hundred pushups.”

“And...that led to…?”

“Yeap,” Yang said, proudly nodding, “Heavy Metal Bitch Skillet. You wanna join? I could use a backup singer.”

“Um...” Pyrhha said, unsure what to really do. “I...I don't know if I have the talent for thi-”

 

“Oh, don't worry, singing metal's super fuckin' easy. Yo, guys, let's do our song for her!”

The drummer tapped out 1-2-3-4 on his drumsticks, as Ramirez and the bassist opened up on their guitars. After a few riffs (which Pyrrha had to admit, despite not liking the genre, they were genuinely nice) Yang timed herself, and started singing.

_“_ _Come at me, and you'll see, I'm more than meets the eye. You think that, you'll break me, you're gonna find in ti-”_

 

Yang's singing was interrupted by the drummer hitting a wrong beat, followed quickly by the cacophony of a disorganized band stopping their music.

“FUCK!” Yang yelled. “ _Ramirez!_ Drop and give me fifty!”

Sighing, Ramirez put his guitar to the side, and began doing pushups.

“You know Ramirez didn't screw up, right?” the bassist asked.

“I know, but he has to listen to me when I give him orders. It's the only reason I let him play for us.”

 

As Ramirez did pushups, Yang relaxed her shoulders, turning back to Pyrrha with a huge grin on her face. The other two band members turned to their instruments, ignoring her presence and tuning their gear. “So, you wanna join?”

Pyrrha looked to the other band members. Only she, Ramirez, and Yang were in the Corps. The other two had been plucked out of wherever Yang had found them. Would they care that they would show up in uniform some days? Or if they had to leave early because of assigned duties?

“I don't know, Yang,” she said. “I'm not much of a singer...”

“ _Don't worry about it!”_ Yang said. “We're all learning here. Kinda. Webb's like, a fuckin' prodigy on these drums, ain't ya?”

 

“Please stop calling me a prodigy.”

“He's modest. It's okay. He'll be a rock star one of these days, I just know it. His solos are like, _way_ better than anything Buddy Rich did.”

“Please stop comparing me to Buddy Rich.”

“Webb, oh my god, just shut up and take the compliment, _okay?_ ”

 

“Well,” Pyrrha said, watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “I suppose it can't hurt too much. How often do we meet?”

Yang pumped her fist in excitement, celebrating her little victory. “Hell yeah! Alright, we're meeting twice a month for practice, you know, duties permitting and whatever. I'm writing like, all our songs. It's gonna be kickass.”

“Out of curiosity,” Pyrrha asked, “what happens if there _are_ conflicting duties?”

“Well, shouldn't happen, really. I can move people around since I'm First Sarge and all.”

 

“Wait,” Ramirez said, breaking from his pushups, “you said you couldn't do that for _me!”_

“Yeah, Ramirez,” Yang said, turning and glaring at him, “because you're not my fucking friend. You're a soldier under my command, and I don't hand out favors. Did I tell you to stop doing pushups?”

“No, First Sergeant,” Ramirez said, defeated.

“Maybe...maybe we could cut Ramirez a break?” Pyrrha asked again. “I mean, he's been doing pretty well lately at field exercises.”

Yang rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. She clearly did _not_ want to give Ramirez a break on _anything._ “ _Fine,_ ” she groaned. “Alright, Ramirez, if something comes up, I can make sure you don't have duty when we practice. Okay? But don't you fuckin' dare tell anyone about it!”

 

“Yes, First Sergeant!”

“See, Yang? That didn't kill you, did it?”

“I swear,” Yang said, “if he abuses my kindness, I'm gonna make him do tours with the Rubber Duck until he fuckin' graduates.”

 

* * *

 

 

Why did the door to their dorm look twenty feet tall today?

 

Blake took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as she reminded herself for the hundredth time that yes, this was a good idea. In theory, it was, anyway. _Ugh, God._ It had scarcely been six months since she had broached this with Yang, and the last time she had done that, Yang ended up having to be escorted home by her soldiers in a drunken stupor.

 

_Well, it can't go any worse than last time,_ Blake thought as she opened the door to her shared dorm room with Yang. As usual, Yang was listening to her music, loud enough so she could hear every note but not loud enough to send Weiss into a flying rage.

 

"Sup, Blake," Yang said, leaning back in her chair and relaxing.

"Hey, Yang, can I...can we talk?"

Yang paused, setting her chair back upright and turning her music down before facing Blake. Her face was neutral, giving Blake no insight to her friend's thoughts.

"Alright. What's up?"

 

Immediately, Blake's mouth felt like she was chewing on a chunk of cotton. Even if she wanted to put out words, she had no idea how to even phrase it. Her eyes darted across the room, as if their dorm would give her clues as to what she should say. Why was saying something so simple turning out to be so hard?

 

"Uh," Yang said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you like...gonna _say_ something, Blake, or can I get back to my music?"

"Yes," Blake sputtered, before realizing how that could be interpreted. "I mean, well, wait. Hold on. I...I want to..."

Blake looked back at her friend, whose mouth was slightly agape in cautious anticipation, waiting for Blake to say something, _anything_ , that would make sense.

 

"I should have been up front with you from the beginning," Blake finally said, surprised at her own words as they tumbled out of her mouth. "I shouldn't have led you on. I knew what I was doing, but...I don't know, I didn't stop myself until it was too late. I just...I wish I could turn back the clock."

 

Yang didn't say anything for a long while, obviously still sore from that day. And why wouldn't she be? What kind of response can anyone _have_ when the one person you care about up and abandons you like Blake did?

 

"You can't undo the day," Yang muttered, finding something incredibly interesting on her radio to fiddle with. "Dad always said 'Falling off used to mean maybe scraping a knee.' I never knew what that meant until I met you. So, yeah, if you're trying to apologize, I guess I accept it."

 

"Y-you're sure?" Blake asked, wondering if she was really hearing this.

"Yeah. You at least owned up to it," Yang said, shrugging. "Come on, I'm feeling hungry. You wanna hit up that Chinese place with Ruby and Weiss?"

"I..." Blake stammered, still not sure if she had actually heard Yang right. Was this...was this a test of some kind? Actually, did it even matter at this point? She said she accepted it, right? So what did Blake have to worry about? "Yeah. Alright. Chinese sounds good."

“Cool,” Yang said, smiling. It had been a while since Blake had seen that. Yang unrolled her sleeves, buttoning them up for the chilly air that awaited them outside. “Hey, Blake, you know we're still friends, right?”

 

Blake paused. She thought Yang of all people would hesitate to call her a _friend,_ especially after what Blake did to her.

“I...I think so. I wasn't sure if we were, to be honest with you.”

“Look, I got pretty fuckin' angry that week. I don't think I was entirely unjustified. But, hell, you stuck with me anyway. You _apologized.”_

“I'm still your friend even after I broke your heart?” Blake asked, frowning.

“I'm pretty good at burying feelings,” Yang said, a pained smile on her face. “It's a neat trick to have when you're me.”

 

Yang looked to the floor for a moment, her eyelids falling across her eyes like they were trying to shield her from the images of a bad memory. After a few seconds, she straightened up and coughed. “Come on,” she said, “let's go get Ruby and Weiss. I think they're at the library.”


	34. December, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang, Ruby, and Blake spend Christmas in California at the Xiao Long house.

“So, Uncle Qrow's going to be coming around for Christmas. Probably.”

Dad sat opposite of Yang, pretending to be interested in the paper as he casually mentioned Uncle Qrow. It wasn't really working – Yang could tell he was not-so-subtly looking for Yang's reaction. In response, Yang folded her arms, frowning. _She_ wasn't going to be the one to say it, not around Ruby and Blake. Blake didn't need to be dragged into family drama, and the less Ruby knew, the better.

 

“Really?!” Ruby asked, gasping in excitement. “Oh my God, Blake, this is gonna be _great!_ You get to be here for Christmas _and_ we get to see Uncle Qrow!”

“You know I don't really _do_ Christmas, right, Ruby?”

“That's okay! We can do stuff your family does for Christmas too!”

Blake sighed, looking for a way to explain what exactly she actually _did_ on the 25th of December. Yang couldn't find herself caring right now, and excused herself to get something to drink from the kitchen. Like a shadow, Dad followed her, leaving Blake alone to deal with “20 Questions Ruby” for now.

 

Yang pulled a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge, twisting open the cap and taking a sip as she watched Dad walk in and lean on the counter.

“You know,” Dad said, “never thought I'd see you refuse a beer.”

“Well, Captain Adel got on me about it. You know how she was.”

“You're pretty responsible about it,” Dad said, “you can drink here if you want.”

“Dad, we both know you're not in here to talk about my choice of drink.”

 

Dad sighed, looking down at the floor as he frowned. “He called me the day you came over, you know.”

“Yeah, I figured he would.”

“That was a dangerous thing you did, talking to Raven.”

Yang closed her eyes, swallowing her anger. “I had to know. I had to know why she left us.”

“Did you really have to get upset with your uncle, though?”

 

“Raven's at least upfront about who she is,” Yang countered. “Qrow's just hiding from what he's become.”

“You have to understand, Yang,” Dad said, “he's not like that anymore. It was a different time for both of them.”

“I don't know if I believe that. Have you _seen_ that house?”

“I...” Dad said, before shaking his head. “No. Not in a long while.”

“Yeah. I didn't think so,” Yang said. “He's getting worse, Dad. The entire goddamn house is like a memorial to what he did in Vietnam. You can't take two steps in that place without seeing a medal or an old picture.”

 

“Look, Yang, I know he's not perfect. He caused me my fair share of headaches in Vietnam. But-”

“Why are you deflecting?” Yang asked, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head.

“It's- look,” Dad said, frustrated. “He's not the monster you make him out to be. He made some mistakes. We _all_ did. I'm pretty sure you've made some of your own that I don't know about.”

Yang glanced out to the living room, seeing Blake still talking to Ruby and smiling. She missed seeing that. She missed when things weren't complicated, and her family's history boiled down to how much ass they had kicked in Vietnam.

“Dad,” Yang said quietly, “do you have any idea what Raven and Qrow told me?”

“I know what they _claimed_ to be,” Dad replied. “I don't know about Raven, but I know Qrow isn't like that anymore.”

 

“Well, Raven's still like that,” Yang said, passing the bottle from one hand to another absentmindedly. “She spent half her time telling me about America's crimes, and the rest trying to convince me to go to China with her. I don't get how you can sit there and defend Qrow like he wasn't planning to kill you the first chance he got.”

Dad sighed, folding his arms. He always did that whenever he was trying to find the right words. “Yang, I knew the whole time. He told me when I first started dating Raven. Wanted to _warn_ me. But I knew he wouldn't ever do that, because we were like brothers before we were brothers in-law. We're family _now._ Qrow isn't someone to leave family behind, much less stab them in the back.”

 

“He told me they only joined Beacon to learn how to kill American soldiers. Are you telling me you _believed_ him when he said he wasn't planning on killing _you_ specifically?”

“Your uncle's a terrible liar,” Dad said, smiling as he recalled an old memory. “It's how I always beat him at poker. If he thought that way, I would have figured it out.”

“Dad, you always told me and Ruby to remember who we were. Is this what you meant? Learn the mistakes you guys made, so we wouldn't make them? Know who our parents were, so we wouldn't be like them?”

 

“No, I told you two that because you're both your own women. You're _not_ Raven. You're _not_ me.” Dad paused, still stinging from losing Mom. “Ruby isn't Summer. You might look like me, Ruby might look like her mom, but you're not the same as us. Just because Qrow wanted to kill people like you and me, and just because Raven betrayed us, doesn't mean that's who _you_ are.”

 

“If I'm not like you or Raven,” Yang said, her shoulders drooping, “then who the hell _am_ I?”

Dad shrugged. “I don't know. You're Yang Xiao Long. You're my sunny little dragon. You've got your own path to blaze, and I'm not about to stop you.”

Yang exhaled slowly, taking a sip from the Gatorade bottle. So far, this wasn't really helping – it was just making her more and more confused.

 

“Yang,” Dad said, breaking the silence. “I'm not saying you have to forgive him totally. You have your reasons for being upset at Raven, and I'm sure they're just as good for being mad at Qrow. But...”

 

Dad paused, and Yang looked back to see him on the verge of tears. That didn't happen often. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure as he met Yang's eyes again.

“Yang, this is the last time I'm going to have you and your sister home before you're off to the Army. I can tell you guys are going far. Just, _please,_ Yang, at least _tolerate_ him while he's here?”

Now it was Yang's turn for the waterworks to start. She slowly put the Gatorade bottle on the counter, and through tear-soaked eyes, hugged her dad tightly.

“Dad, you don't have to worry,” she said, choking up. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back home. I promise.”

 

“Thank you, Yang,” Dad said, returning her hug. “I appreciate it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Lieutenant!” Corporal Fuller flagged Blake down, jogging toward her.

“Corporal,” Blake said, nodding and returning his salute.

“The guys at Post wanted me to tell you they've got a package waiting for you, ma'am.”

Blake furrowed her brow. She hadn't ordered anything lately. “A package?” she asked. “From who?”

“I dunno, ma'am,” Fuller said, shrugging. “They didn't tell me.”

After bidding her good day, Corporal Fuller headed off, and Blake too headed directly to Post, to pick up her strange package.

 

She returned to the Xiao Long house after retrieving the box from Post, studying the markings on the outside of it. It was a fairly simple box, with postmarks from Israel, Italy, and France all over it alongside US Customs stamps.

 

And it was from Sun Wukong.

 

The name was unfamiliar to Blake, until memories of 1985's VITAL Festival went straight to her head like the first cigarette of the day. Blake took out her pocketknife, cutting open the tape that sealed the contents within. A small picture of Sun and his squad was inside, with two letters, a small book, various trinkets she didn't see any value in, and a little IDF pin. The topmost letter was marked “Read First”, and she decided to do so, unfolding it.

 

_“Blake Belladonna,_

 

_Forgive me for not knowing your rank. It pains me to write this._ Samal _Sun Wukong has passed from this world. I am writing this merely three hours after his death, and I am sad to say it was not a pleasant passing. I will spare you the details, but do know he missed you, and spoke of you often. He wondered if any of his letters reached you, though I always suspected you had your reasons to not reply to them._

 

_He also spoke to me often that, in the event of his untimely death, to send you the package you have now. It has a picture, for you to remember him and our squad by, as well as things he wanted you to have, such as his Tanakh,_ _the Star of David he wore on his person, and other items he'll no doubt go into in his own letter._

 

_I wish I could say that it would be okay if you sent all of this back, but I'm not sure if I could handle having my friend rejected even in death. If not for Sun, at least keep these for my sake. Please remember him, because there may come a time where even I, and the rest of my squad, perishes. We need somebody to remember us, even if they're reluctant to._

 

_I think I'm done being poetic and philosophical. Thank you for reading, and making a good impression on Sun. He never gave up hope on you, even if you lived halfway across the world. I think he would've liked to have known you got this._

 

_-_ Rabat _Neptune Vasilias”_

 

Blake put the letter down, her hands shaking uncontrollably. _Fuck._ She had never had any strong feelings for Wukong, but...goddammit, he had gone to all this trouble just for her, and now he was dead. The letter was marked as being written on December 9 th. It was the 15th now. She had been watching the news when Sun had died. Jesus, she might have even _seen_ his death if the stations weren't careful with their broadcasts, totally unaware.

 

It was entirely too much for her. She collapsed on the floor of the living room, sobbing. She didn't dare look at the other letter while in this state, afraid of what it would say. More than anything, she feared she would fall in love with a dead man, forever unable to have him.

 

Yang found her like this, on the floor and a total wreck.

“Oh, shit,” Yang muttered, running right to her. “Blake? What's going on? Are you alright?”

Blake couldn't form words anymore, merely pointing to the cursed box. Yang rifled through it, skimming contents and scanning items until she figured out the context on her own.

“Oh, Jesus, Blake,” Yang said, gasping and rubbing Blake's shoulder in a fruitless attempt to comfort her.

 

* * *

 

 

Christmas Eve came early this year. As Ruby, Yang, and their family were busy celebrating the holiday, Blake made herself scarce in order to finally confront Sun Wukong's letter to her. She had kept the box hidden from Ruby, not because she feared Ruby would look down on her for it, but because she was afraid Ruby would reopen the wounds it had caused.

 

Logically, it didn't even make sense to Blake. Why on earth was she feeling this strongly for a dead man she had known for all of a week? She couldn't remember particularly _liking_ the Israeli when he was at Beacon, instead regarding him more as an annoyance.

 

But still. She had brought enough light into his life that he felt she should have this collection of items that _used_ to be his. Though they had literally never spoken to or seen one another since that week in 1985, he had remembered her and held her in his thoughts since then.

 

Before she could even think about the letter, though, she had to gather the trinkets he had sent. She pulled each one out of the box and set them before her, wondering why he had levied these things upon her. His Star of David. An Israeli coin. A small book with numerous words written in Hebrew she couldn't understand. A Tanakh. A CD, of all things. These were the things he wanted her to remember him by.

 

Her hands shaking, Blake finally unfolded Sun's letter, reading through its contents. Half of it was a regretful retelling of his life after their brief encounter at Beacon up until his death. He claimed no foresight on his demise, but hoped it would be quick, and cursed the Syrian or Iraqi who had brought an end to his world. The other half was a final love letter to her. He apologized, for fucks sake _he was apologizing to her_ , for being so annoying at Beacon.

 

Blake found herself wanting to cry, but was afraid her tears would only bring unwanted attention. There was only one solution she could see. She grabbed her smokes, checking her pocket to make sure she had her lighter, and headed out the front door. Once outside, she sat on the staircase leading up to the porch, staring into the sky. One, two flicks on the old Zippo her dad had used in Vietnam, and her relief was alight. The cigarette's minty flavor tasted smooth in the night air. Maybe that would help her pain.

 

“Smoking'll kill you, you know,” a voice said. On instinct, Blake jumped off the stairs, whipping around like she had been caught red-handed committing a crime. If it had been an officer from another company, smoking may as well _have_ been a crime. But, it was just Yang's uncle, Qrow, standing there with his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the porch column.

 

“Please don't tell Yang or Ruby,” Blake pleaded.

“You think _I_ care? I fuckin' chain-smoked Luckies in Vietnam.” He got off from the porch, joining her on the stairs. “I know that smoker look. What's on your mind, kid?”

Blake paused, taking another drag off the cigarette. What did _he_ care about Blake's personal issues? Then again, he looked like he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

“I got a letter from a dead Israeli.”

 

“Sounds pretty rough. Know the guy?”

“Kind of. I don't know. Not really. I met him a couple years ago. He visited us during the VITAL Festival.”

“I'm guessing he died over in the West Bank?”

“Yeah. Two weeks ago.”

“Well. You can't save everyone, kid.”

 

“I didn't _want_ to save him,” Blake said defensively. “For whatever stupid reason, he wanted to be with me. He told me he had dreams of him and I, and marriage in an orange grove. He annoyed me every minute he was here.”

“I knew this dude in Vietnam,” Qrow said, leaning back and taking a drink from his flask. “Name was Bruno. Marine, pretty rough around the edges, but a decent guy once you got to know him. He had a thing for some Vietnamese girl he met in Saigon. I thought she was a VC spy, cause they used women like that all the time down there.”

 

As Blake smoked, and Qrow drank, Blake began to wonder where he was going with all this. Maybe once he stopped drinking, he'd show her his point. Or, maybe not, since he just kept staring off into the distance as if in a haze.

 

“Anyway, he thought if he could just whisk her away to America, they'd be fine. She didn't want to leave her family behind. Had like, eight brothers and sisters or some shit, I don't remember. We'd been in the shit for three solid months, no rest, no rotations back to Saigon, nothing. Once we get a chance for R&R, Bruno goes around asking everyone he can about her, wants to find her again. Come to find out, VC had rolled through weeks ago, killed everyone their agents saw talking to Americans. Just dumped them all in a pit and opened up with old Soviet machine guns.”

 

“Why are you even telling me this?” Blake finally asked.

“You can't control what happens in a warzone to someone you care about,” Qrow replied. “Sounds to me like you regret everything that happened with this kid. I'm telling you not to. He's dead, _he_ doesn't care. He's probably just happy to have known you. His life would've ended there whether or not you had met him.”

 

Blake sighed, putting out her cigarette. “Thanks, I guess,” she said, moving to head back inside. She was stopped by Qrow, standing in front of her.

“Look, I know it's rough to lose friends. I lost a few myself. If you wanna talk, you know where to find me, kid.”

Without even so much as waiting for an answer, Qrow headed back inside, leaving Blake alone outside. Maybe she'd take him up on that offer one day. But tonight wasn't one of those nights.


	35. May, 1988

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teams RWBY and JNPR graduate from Beacon.

The day they had been waiting for had finally come. Four long years of trials, of schoolwork, triumph, and tragedy, coalesced into this final day.

 

They stood on the drill field, much like they had on August 8th, 1984, when they had first completed the Black Mountain run. Much like back then, they had been assembled into their companies, and Commandant Ozpin stood before them giving a speech. Unlike that August day four years ago, however, they were not plebes, or exhausted from a run. They stood here as graduates, moving on to bigger and better things, clad in their dress greens.

 

“These fine young men and women,” the Commandant said, “have achieved their ultimate goal. The cadets before you represent the newest generation of the US military's leadership, building on the experience of each man and woman before them, of each war our nation has fought in, on top of the sacrifice each soldier has made.”

 

“Today, these cadets stand as proud members of the Lighthouse Brigade, and let it be known that even if their future does not take them to the military, each and every cadet here has a home at Beacon. The mere fact that these ladies and gentlemen were part of the Lighthouse Brigade is a testament to their honor, their willingness to do what is right, and sheer tenacity. The Brigade keeps an ever vigilant watch over the graduating Class of 1988, as even civilians will understand the commitment it takes to stay at Beacon, to prosper and persevere here.”

 

Even though she couldn't see him, Ruby was sure that the Commandant was almost tearing up as he began the next part of his speech.

“This has been the finest class I have had the honor of overseeing. This class has proven itself time and time again in exercises, during 1985's VITAL Tournament, and in non-military events as the class to look up to, for all future classes to aspire to be like. Each company has treated its members like family, and I sincerely hope that this continues outside of Beacon.”

 

Ozpin performed an about face, overlooking the cadets. For the last time, he saluted them, and for the last time as cadets, they saluted him back. Ruby could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes.

“Brigade,” somebody shouted, “at ease!”

All at once, their peaked caps flew off their heads and into the air, signifying their graduation. Friends and family members flooded onto the drill field, meeting with their newly-graduated cadets. It was a mess, totally unmilitary, but it was nice to escape their lifestyle for one moment more. After all, this would be the last time many of them would have to see each other. The companies were being torn apart by plans, commissions, and enlistments from those who knew they didn't make the grade.

 

All Ruby and her friends could do now was wait and see if they earned their commissions, or if the Army had other plans for them.

 

* * *

 

 

Ruby, Yang, Blake and Weiss had gathered at Dad's house, waiting anxiously the news from the Army. The word got out that they would be sending shortlists for commissions soon, and it was a waiting game as the letters came in. Blake and Weiss had already forwarded their mail to Dad's house, and so they should all get their news at he same time.

 

Finally, the day arrived. The mailman dropped off hefty manila envelopes for each of them, and the four attacked them savagely. The thrilled faces on each of her friend's faces told Ruby all she needed to know – they made it. Her letter congratulated her and her friends for being so outstanding as to warrant a full team commission. Screams of excitement, happy tears, and glad disbelief mixed freely as the four women hugged and congratulated each other.

 

“I knew it,” Dad said, leaning against the wall. “I told you two you'd be going far.”

“Yeah,” Qrow said. “Good job, you guys.”

“Oh man,” Ruby said, still holding her offer, “I wonder where we'll go? They said we've been chosen for Armor School. Where do you think they'll send us after that?”

“God, I hope it's somewhere nice,” Yang said. “Imagine if they set us up in Italy.”

 

“Look,” Qrow said, becoming unusually serious, “just remember that you've still got a long way to go. And don't think for a second that graduating means you're done. Every day out there is worth a week at Beacon. You're gonna go far, but _only_ if you keep learning, if you never stop moving forward.”

The four looked among each other, fully aware of the gravity of Qrow's words. This wasn't for a grade at Beacon anymore – it was the real deal.

 

The phone rang. Ruby picked it up, and through it Jaune gave her good news – he had been offered a commission, heading to Armor like he wanted. Calls came in from Nora and Ren and Pyrrha soon after as well, with similar news. All eight of them would be heading to Fort Knox to learn how to crew the M1A1 Abrams.

 

* * *

 

 

Upon reporting to Fort Knox, they learned how their team would be divided up. Ruby would take up the mantle of the tank's commander, having earned a promotion straight to Captain that would transfer to their new unit. Blake was the tank's driver, Weiss loader, and Yang got the honor of being the gunner. Jaune, perhaps unexpectedly, also got a Captain's position, earning him the spot of tank commander. Ren would drive, while Pyrrha loaded, and Nora took up gunner.

 

Already they had figured out names for their tanks. Nora immediately had picked “Boop” for JNPR's tank, a name that the other three found perfectly suitable. For RWBY, picking a name was harder, and they went through several (including Myrtenaster, Weiss's suggestion and Gambol Shroud, Blake's idea) before ultimately deciding on “We Burn.”

 

Before the month was over, they had even learned their new unit. From now on, their home would be West Germany, with the 1st Armored Division. Weiss had been overjoyed when she heard the news, enthusiastically telling the others all about the area around the base, with promises to give everyone a personal tour of Wilhelmshaven one day.

 

What new and exciting adventures awaited them in Europe, as part of the 1st Armored Division?

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Jaune said, taking a break from armor school studies.

“Yes?”

“I know Armor wasn't your first choice, or even your _third_ choice, so...thank you, for going armor with us.”

She smiled, nodding slightly as she worked on copying a list of ammo types. “It's not a problem, Jaune. I'm glad to serve with you.”

“So...what are you going to _do?_ I can't imagine you doing tanks forever.”

 

Pyrrha leaned back in her chair, reflecting on the conversation she had with Ruby's Uncle Qrow all those years ago.

“Well, I think I can spend some time here. I want to transfer to the Infantry, go to Ranger School. I know I can pass the fitness exams for it, especially if I'm moving ammunition around.”

“Giving up on Special Forces then?”

“Not entirely. I've always wanted to be a Ranger since I first heard about them. I think it'd make someone I know proud.”

Jaune nodded. “Family? Yeah, I definitely know how that situation.”

“No, not family,” Pyrrha said. “Someone else.”

 

Jaune paused. She hadn't ever told him about Stefan, not that she could remember, at least. Maybe he had an innate ability to just _know_ she had lost someone close to her, since he smiled softly back.

“I'm sure they're proud of you anyway, Pyrrha. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, you know.”

“I know. It's just nice to know how someone thinks, right?”

“Yeah.”


	36. November, 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical day at the Army base in Bamberg, Germany, turns unusual.

Their whole base was on alert. The 1st Armored Division had been activated, for what purpose none knew. Ruby had put the news on, with Jaune translating the words from German newscasters. The scene on the television was the Berlin Wall, and if Ruby didn't know any better, she'd have thought all of this a pretext for a Soviet invasion, a ruse staged by the East Germans.

 

Already, scenes of mass people trying to get through the Wall, both into and out of East Germany, crowded the picture. Even more images came on showing a diplomatic crisis enveloping the East German embassy in Hungary, where thousands of East Germans were desperately trying to cross into the West. It looked like mass chaos, and a perfect reason for Moscow to rev up the war machine.

 

For such a dangerous-looking evening, Weiss was busy working on _We Burn,_ convinced there was an issue with the steering mechanism. Despite Blake's insistence that the mechanism was working fine and that Weiss should really come over to the television, she adamantly refused, remaining under the tank's hull.

 

Jaune continued to translate the newscaster's words, until he paused for a moment, his eyes wide. He suddenly said, much louder and with enthusiasm, “The GDR has announced that, starting immediately, it's borders are open to everyone!”

 

Right after Jaune finished his sentence, tools clanging against the concrete could be heard as Weiss rolled out from underneath _We Burn._ She stomped over to Jaune, her confusion mixing with disbelief. “Say that again, Jaune?” Weiss asked. “You _can't_ have that right. You must have mistranslated or something.”

“Nah, he's got it right,” Captain Macklin said. “GDR's opening its borders, y'all.”

The monumental significance of this was not lost on Weiss, or Ruby. Weiss's eyes went from joyful, to sad, to proud all at once, and through tears she ran over to Ruby, her hands clasped together as if praying. “Ruby,” Weiss pleaded, “you have to let me go. I need to find Winter.”

 

Ruby smiled softly, nodding. “Go ahead. I'll cover for you.”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Weiss said quietly, hugging her. In a rush, she bid the rest of the company farewell, getting into her personal vehicle to travel to the line between the Germanies, aiming to find her sister.

 

* * *

 

 

Weiss drove straight to the border, listening in to Bundeswehr radio transmissions to find the location of _Fernspählehrkompanie 200._

_“_ _Äh, haben wir eine Bestätigung dafür?”_ the radio crackled.

Odd. It had been so long since she had actually _listened_ to military German, she scarcely remembered how to really translate it. Too many winter breaks spent at Ruby's house, rather than at home.

_“_ _Ja, sie sind Flüchtlinge. Befehl sagt, dass sie auschecken.”_

_Flüchtlinge._ She knew that one, at least. Refugees.

_“_ _Können wir hier Ihre Bestellungen klären? Wenn wir nicht vorsichtig sind, werden sie unsere Position schwärmen.”_

_“Ich dachte, ich hätte meine Befehle_ _**klar** _ _gemacht. Halte Position und warte auf Verstärkung. Dies könnte immer noch ein sowjetischer Trick sein.”_

 

Weiss didn't need a translation to know who that was. She could recognize Winter's voice anywhere. Her radio could only pick up signals if they were relatively close by – unfortunately, that gave her a 50 kilometer search radius. There was a checkpoint coming up ahead. Weiss could recognize the emblem of the 12th Panzer Division on their vehicles. They _had_ to know where _Fernspählehrkompanie 200_ was.

 

A young soldier held out a hand as she approached, and an equally young machine gunner tracked her car as she slowed down.

“Ahm,” he said, raising up his softcap, “I'm sorry, but ve can't allow any Americans over zere.”

“I'm looking for Winter Schnee,” Weiss replied in German.

He was surprised for a moment, but quickly replied back, “Well, that's fine, ma'am, but she's a bit busy, maybe you could take it up with the corps commander-”

“She'll want to see her sister.”

“I'm sorry?”

 

Weiss rolled her eyes, and tugged her field jacket out to show him the name strip on it. His eyes grew wide, and he began apologizing profusely, trying to make up for his unintentional _faux pas._

“I don't want to hear you grovel,” she said. “I heard her talking on the radio just a minute ago. Where is she?”

He stood tall, looking around the area for something, maybe a landmark to direct her by. Didn't he realize she _knew_ this country already? That she had lived here for eighteen years of her life?

“Six kilometers that way,” he said, pointing north, “is the company's headquarters.”

“Thank you, Corporal. That'll be all.”

“Y-yes, ma'am.”

 

Weiss sped down the road towards the headquarters, hellbent on finding her sister. Nothing else mattered now. As she approached the building, guards waved her through. The soldier at the checkpoint must have given them advanced word of her arrival.

 

“Lieutenant Colonel Schnee is in there, ma'am,” a soldier said, pointing Weiss to a room filled with radios and maps. Men and women cluttered the room, each one of them with yellow twine on their shoulder boards. Signal troops. Weiss entered the room, watching Winter talk to a lieutenant clutching papers in his hands.

 

“Winter?” Weiss asked, stepping closer to her. She turned around, about to tell her off for using her first name in a professional setting, until she saw it was Weiss. She smiled, and headed to her, waving off any subordinates who demanded to know what was happening.

“I can't believe you made it, Weiss,” Winter said, holding her sister tight.

“It's really happening,” Weiss said, feeling her eyes swell up with tears of joy. “I never thought I'd see Germany whole. We can go home again.”

 

She felt Winter's chest rise and fall heavily. Oh no. What was it?

“Yes and no, Weiss. The borders are open, but...the army isn't letting any active duty personnel go. I don't think the Americans are going to let you cross the border anytime soon.”

“What? Why not? It's...it's our _home._ We... can finally see Grandma...”

“We can't. We just... _can't_ , Weiss.” Winter pulled back, trying hard to keep herself together. “The East Germans don't have any records of her. She's gone, Weiss.”

 

“How…how do you know?” Weiss asked. “Maybe they have it wrong?”

“There's a border agent over there,” Winter said, pointing to another room. “He had access to things like that, leverage if anyone defected. Who do you think they wanted to flip the most?”

Weiss took a step back from her sister, drawing short pained breaths. It wasn't right, _couldn't_ be right. The world had already taken her grandfathers away from her early, before she could ever learn about them. Why was it so cruel as to take away her one connection to Saxony as well?

“I'm sorry, Weiss,” Winter finally said. “I wish it didn't have to be this way. I really do.”

“It's...I suppose it's alright.”

“Weiss, I-”

“Please, Winter, just let me know when we can go visit Saxony. I want to see what the Communists did to the family estate.”

 

Weiss left the building before Winter could convince her to stay. She didn't want Winter, or God forbid, any of the strangers who occupied the headquarters, see her break down. With the records from the war gone, with all of her grandparents long since deceased, she now had no way to know what her family's history was. If her family was involved with the Nazis, there was no way to prove or disprove it.

 

And that terrified her. All she had ever wanted was to know. That opportunity was now forever lost.


	37. So Long, Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An otherwise usual day in Germany changes when news from the world prompts a command meeting.

“Woah, shit,” Yang said, reading the paper with her morning coffee. “You guys see this? _Stars and Stripes_ is reporting Iraq has invaded Kuwait.”

“You serious?” Ruby asked, looking up from her breakfast. “What for?”

“I dunno. Something in here about Kuwait 'stealing' Iraqi petroleum? Blake, you know more about this than I do, any of this make sense to you?”

 

Blake grabbed her own copy of _Stars and Stripes_ , reading through the article as she lazily chewed on a bagel, just remembering how to be alive for the day. Finally, she swallowed, and went into her explanation. “During the Iraq-Iran war, Kuwait was one of many Middle Eastern states that gave money to Iraq in an effort to stem the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. Iraq hasn't been able to pay back their debts, and that's caused a lot of tension between them. Couple that with a downturn in Iraqi oil profits while Kuwait's been prospering, and Iraq believing Kuwait to be part of its country, I'm surprised they didn't invade sooner.”

 

“Christ, just when I thought this planet couldn't get any crazier,” Yang commented.

 

* * *

 

 

Their division's senior staff had been called in November for a high-level meeting, immediately following which battalion leaders dispersed the meeting's notes to company and platoon commanders like Ruby. Without even time to digest the information, Lieutenant Colonel Jones had called them up for a meeting of his own.

 

The conference room was abuzz with the sound of discussion, ranging from speculation on the meeting's notes to bored everyday talk. As LTC Jones entered, this talk stopped as all rose in respect. He offhandedly waved them back to ease, allowing them to relax as he took his place at the head of the conference table.

 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “I'm sure you've all read the reports from _Stars and Stripes._ Iraq's gone and invaded Kuwait. We've got troops in Saudi Arabia mobilizing right now in response to what's going on down there. Now, I haven't gotten anything from higher up on what the grand strategy is, but we do have _this._ ”

 

An aide handed out new orders to the captains. Ruby scanned the contents of it as Jones talked. This was almost unprecedented.

“We're heading to Saudi Arabia, ladies and gentlemen. We've got few precious weeks to train and figure out how in the hell we're gonna move all these Abrams from here to Riyadh, so I'd suggest getting your best logisticians on it ASAP. If you don't have any, borrow someone from another company, but I'd only do that as a last resort.”

 

“Something else we'll need to do,” Jones continued, “is retrain our gunnery and general preparedness. Colonel Marmo isn't too happy with the readiness reports we've given him over the past few months, so let's make sure we're the best battalion in the division, yeah?”

 

The topic of discussion moved to a short, cursory examination of how exactly the divisional staff expected them to up and relocate the entire division to Saudi Arabia, much less repurpose their soldiers, used to the European winters, in desert warfare. For the time being, Lieutenant Colonel Jones didn't have much in the way of answers beyond “We gotta figure it out.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This is nuts,” Yang said as she plotted fuel usage. “Fuckin' Saudi Arabia. How are we supposed to fight in the Middle East?”

“We'll have to make sure the engine can take all that dust,” Blake commented. “Sand and jet engine fuel don't mix.”

“By my calculations,” Weiss said, putting down a pencil, “we'll need...a _lot_ of trains and trucks to move all the elements of our division, let alone just this platoon.”

 

The calculations were endless, doubly so when they began running training exercises to refresh and hone the platoon's gunnery skills. The division as a whole had to qualify their tanks all over again, not to mention the wargames that brought additional stress to the armored vehicles. Maintenance on _We Burn_ and _Boop_ had been relatively easy when the work consisted of checking bearings and ensuring the oil was still good. But, sending the tanks into simulated combat operations meant wear and tear on the tracks, the gun, every single little bearing and gear inside the tank, not to mention the hidden issues that couldn't be seen inside the engine.

 

Just the prospect alone of trying to problem-solve engine issues drove Blake insane, to the point she almost wanted to just rip the entire engine out and take it apart piece by piece when they arrived in Saudi Arabia. She and Weiss both obsessed over the condition of every tank in the platoon, rigorously enforcing each maintenance checklist to be perfect and every small piece accounted for.

 

Alas, not even their manic obsession to detail could help when the division began its move to Saudi Arabia. Short notice for the division's transport elements and inclement weather caused delays, and perhaps more worryingly, Ruby, Blake, Weiss, Yang, Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora and Ren had all been sent without their vehicles to Saudi Arabia, and were thus unable to oversee the transfer of their vehicles. Their tanks weren't even scheduled to depart for the docks until the last week of November, maybe even longer if the delays held up.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Yang muttered, bored out of her mind. “Can these guys go any slower?”

“Suicide Alley,” as the single Saudi highway to Tactical Assembly Area Thompson was known, had given them another headache in the form of a traffic jam. Their convoy was halted, waiting for a HEMTT to replace a tire. Until it did, nothing could move. But, traffic jams and broken wheels weren't the only hazards. Saudi drivers considered the two-lane bumpy road a four-lane superhighway, and drove like their lives depended on it. Given how ridiculously rough the road was, it probably _did._

 

An hour passed, and finally the convoy was on the move again. The Saudi deserts were a stark contrast to the lush plains of Germany that Ruby was used to. It didn't help that their vehicles had hastily been repainted tan in an attempt to give them some concealment in the desert. Ruby even scarcely recognized their _uniforms_ as American, with the new pattern referred to as “Chocolate Chip” camo.

 

“Hey,” Weiss said as they began to move, “do you think Saddam will do it? Withdraw from Kuwait?”

“Hell no,” Blake said, shaking her head as she looked out the window. “He's not stupid. I'm just worried he'll launch an attack on our positions.”

“Heh, I'm not,” Yang chimed in. “With what we've got? No way he'll pull the trigger.”

“Yeah, well, we thought that about Kuwait, too,” Ruby said. “Keep on your toes, everyone.”

 

* * *

 

 

In between reviewing security measures, improving their defensive positions, and ensuring her platoon was ready for combat, Ruby often headed to the “Fest Tent,” a collection of 120 phones provided by AT&T to allow soldiers to call home occasionally. She was farther away from home than she had ever been. To claim she wasn't wishing she could go back home to California just one last time before potentially going to war was absurd. But, at least calling Dad and Uncle Qrow helped a little.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dad said as he picked up the phone.

“Hey, dad,” Ruby said. It was nice to hear his voice again.

“I've been watching the news. It doesn't look good over there, you know.”

 

She expected this. Anticipated it, even. Not much could really help Dad's nerves, not when everything that was happening must have reminded him of Vietnam.

“Yeah,” she replied. “It's...we're settling in. The ball's in his court, as they say. I hope diplomacy will win here.”

“I hope so, too,” Dad said. “Be. Careful. Ruby. Please. Tell your sister, too. For me.”

“I will, Dad. We'll be alright.”

“It won't be like it was back at Beacon, Ruby. They're fighting for their homes.”

 

“I know,” Ruby said. “I gotta go, Dad. Talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye, Ruby. Stay safe.”

Ruby hung up the phone, heading to the barracks tents. There, she found Yang flipping lazily through a magazine.

 

“Hey, Ruby,” she said as Ruby entered. “You talk to Dad?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to tell you to be careful. Usual spiel, you know?”

Yang smirked, chuckling softly. “Sounds about right. Dad's always worried about us.”

“Well, maybe he has a reason to this time.”

 

Yang sat up, suddenly serious. “Hey, Ruby, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Ruby said, shrugging.

“You scared?”

Ruby frowned. “Of what?”

“All this,” Yang said, gesturing to the area. “War. Fighting. Going into combat.”

 

“I mean, it's what we signed up to do, Yang.”

“Yeah, but… I dunno, nevermind. It was a dumb question. Forget I said anything.”

Yang cut off any probing by putting on a pair of headphones, no doubt blasting Motley Crüe, or maybe Iced Earth. Ruby couldn't tell the difference between the metal Yang listened to anymore. Why was Yang acting so strangely?

 

* * *

 

 

As the countdown to war crept ever closer, it became clear that there would be no negotiating. Talks in Geneva broke down, and the 1st Armored Division ramped up its wargaming and planning. Daily staff meetings ensured that each officer was aware of every small change in the plan, detailing what would happen when, and where, with what units. On the night of February 23rd, 1991, the division's artillery went to work, launching rocket artillery across Iraqi lines as the rest of the division trained and prepared.

 

The stage had been set as dawn broke on the 24th. The division had been ordered to full combat readiness, and as a whole they inched towards the rear line of the 19th Engineers, which had been hard at work clearing lanes in the minefields for their tanks to move through.

 

“You know,” Yang said over the radio, “the first casualty of war is routine.” She paused, and then added, “and some asshole in Kuwait.”

“Cut the chatter,” Weiss admonished. “We could get orders to turn around any second.”

“We've already blown up half their tanks,” Blake commented. “We're not stopping just because Saddam said sorry.”

 

Immediately after, the sound of the corps commander's voice came through their radio.

“All 1AD callsigns, this is Baseplate, be prepared to launch your attack at noon. I repeat, prepare to attack at noon, out.”

“Wait, what?” Weiss asked after the commander went offline. “Attack at _noon_? That's eighteen hours ahead of schedule!”

“Marines must've made some headway,” Ruby speculated as she switched channels to speak to only her platoon. “Alright, heartbreakers, you heard Baseplate. Be ready to attack at noon, over.”

Replies of “understood” and “roger” came through not long after, confirming they had heard and were ready to execute their new unexpected orders.

 

Another few hours passed. The wait was excruciating. All they could do to pass the time was talk amongst themselves, and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary

“Remind me again,” Yang said, leaning back on her seat, “what've the Iraqis got for armor?”

“Mostly Chinese Type 59 and 69 tanks,” Weiss replied. “Intelligence reported some T-72s, but we can't be sure how many.”

“Those Chicom tanks,” Yang asked, “they're like...just Chinese versions of some old Soviet tank, right?”

“It's a Chinese development of the T-54A,” Ruby added. “If the intel guys are right, it's got a gun comparable to the T-72 and T-80, and upgraded armor to boot. Who knows what kind of electronics it's got under the hood.”

 

“Well,” Yang said, “it's nothing against our gun. Iraqis could get a T-72 straight from the factory in Moscow, won't help them one bit.”

“Don't get too cocky,” Blake reminded. “They can still do damage if we're not careful.”

Ruby checked her watch. It was almost two now. They should have been moving out by now. What was taking so long?

 

“All callsigns, this is Central, 1AD is Oscar Mike. I repeat, 1AD is on the attack, over.”

“Let's get ready to fuckin' rock,” Yang said, excitedly straightening up in her seat to take the gunner controls.

As one, Ruby's platoon, the battalion, the brigade, and the division, moved towards Iraqi lines, closely following the engineering units as they continued to clear safe paths for them. If all went well, they'd cross the Iraqi border without incident.


	38. Round One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RWBY enters first combat against the Iraqi Army.

The entrance into Iraq was swift. The Iraqi forward elements fell with little resistance, and the Marines reported capturing thousands of Iraqi troops as they swept forward toward Baghdad. Just to their east, British and Kuwaiti forces were heading into Kuwait, liberating it. Few, if any, shots had been fired in anger thus far. The general pattern was that Iraqi soldiers put up a short fight, and then surrendered to the first coalition troops they saw.

 

“Airborne must be kicking ass,” Yang commented as they continued to roll across the desert.

“Keep on your guard,” Weiss warned.

“Why bother?” Yang asked. “Iraqis have been surrendering left and right, haven't you heard the traffic from the Marines?”

Weiss shook her head, looking through her periscopes to find any threats, real or imagined. Ruby took this time to check her scopes as well, watching a seemingly endless desert stretch out in front of them. The heat drew up a haze, making visibility beyond about a kilometer nearly impossible. Was that a dune on the horizon, or an enemy armored column? It was hard to tell.

 

“All 1AD callsigns, be advised,” Central broadcasted over the radio, “uh, we have reports of an Iraqi mechanized infantry company due north, about two klicks away. Uh, recon says it looks like they're gearing up for a fight. Out.”

 

“See, Yang? They've got to have BMPs with them. If they have Saggers or Spandrels on those...”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard it. Come on, even if they had the Saggers, we'd see the thing coming. Blake's a good driver, she'd get us out of it.”

“I'm good,” Blake chimed in from the driver's seat, “but I'm not that good. We'd have a better chance against the Saggers since they're manual, but if those Spandrels have good locks, we're done for.”

 

Ruby tuned out her crew's discussion of Soviet infantry fighting vehicle weaponry and what they'd likely face. That enemy company wasn't that far away from their position, even with the vague location given by Central. Usually, she'd shy away from engaging a company-sized element with just her platoon, but if she could get Jaune's platoon to help out, that'd even up the odds some.

 

“Delta 3-3,” Ruby said, hailing Jaune over the command channel, “this is Delta 3-2. Feel like bagging some Iraqis today?”

“You want the whole platoon or just a couple of us?”

“Well, if that company's dug in, we'll need all we can get. Can you help us?”

“Yeah, we can do that. Rendezvous in five?”

“Will do. See you then, out.”

 

Switching over to her platoon's channel, Ruby relayed new orders for them. They would regroup with Jaune's platoon, and conduct a light probing assault on the suspected enemy positions. The drive to the rendezvous point didn't take long, and they had arranged their two platoons in a classic spearhead formation, with _We Burn_ and _Boop_ leading the way.

 

Off beyond the horizon, long white tendrils of smoke followed a series of brilliant orange flares, or at least they looked like flares. Yang had poked her head out of the tank, having been busy waving to Jaune and Pyrrha on the other tank.

“Woah,” Yang said, getting back into the safety of _We Burn_. “You guys see that? What the fuck is it?”

“Rocket arty,” Blake replied. “Inaccurate, but _man_ will it fuck up your day if they get it right.”

“Damn, did we know the Iraqis had rocket arty in this sector?”

“No,” Weiss said. “But, if the Iraqi military follows Soviet doctrine, then it's likely their mechanized units have their own rocket artillery batteries for local fire support. Or, perhaps more likely, we've stumbled upon an Iraqi artillery battalion headquarters, and they're coordinating a fire mission against Marines.”

 

“Well, hell,” Yang said, rolling her shoulders. “Let's fucking wreck their day.”

“Uh, Delta 3-2,” Jaune said, “you guys see this arty, right? Still want to advance?”

“Yeah,” Ruby responded. “Keep an eye out for any defenses, especially enemy ATGM teams. We're not losing any tanks today.”

“Roger that. We've got HE and HEAT on standby.”

 

“Weiss,” Ruby ordered, getting off the radio, “load HE, keep HEAT close by.”

“Understood,” Weiss said, nodding and opening the breech. Swiftly, she unloaded the armor-piercing round that had been loaded in, and replaced it with a high-explosive round, flipping the round over in her hands to align it properly. Looking back through her periscopes, Ruby watched the artillery come ever closer. Was that a trench line in front of them?

 

The sound of small arms fire bouncing off their armor confirmed that idea. Ruby scanned again, spotting a plume of dust kicked up by something. That couldn't have been caused by an ATGM, no, that was a cannon of some kind.

 

“Taking fire from a cute little BMP,” Yang said, slewing the turret to engage the threat. “Fucking adorable, like a puppy!”

“Would you just fire the goddamn gun?!” Weiss asked, already preparing to load more HE into _We Burn'_ s main gun.

Yang obliged her, sending the 120mm round downrange to the enemy IFV, destroying it outright. The report of the coaxial machine gun just added to the scene's destruction as Ruby gave the order for all tanks in her platoon to open fire. Jaune must have given a similar order – familiar, muffled thuds came from her right.

 

“Keep pushing forward!” Ruby called out to her platoon, leading the charge from the front. Already, she could see Iraqi infantrymen abandoning their posts and their arms, tossing AK-47s to the ground and breaking ranks. So far, it looked like Iraq was giving up.

 

“Hey, let's knock out that artillery camp,” Jaune suggested over the radio. “My platoon can chase down these stragglers!”

“On it, we're maneuvering around now!”

With great speed, Ruby and her platoon broke into the artillery camp, knocking down walls and guard towers with both their tank and HE shells. Another salvo was being fired off. They had to knock these guns out, and _fast._ Blake practically drifted their tank around a corner, bringing them face-to-face with what had to have been at least a dozen Soviet-made rocket artillery trucks.

 

“There they are!” Weiss shouted, “blow them sky-high!”

“Hoo-fucking-ah,” Yang said, cackling as she sent another HE shell to the collected vehicles. She apparently got a one in a million shot, as something exploded, wrecking each vehicle near-instantly in a massive fireball.

“Jesus Christ,” Blake shouted, “what the fuck did you hit, Yang?!”

“Must've been the ammo dump,” Ruby said, “good shooting, Yang.”

“Yo, I see them surrendering out there,” Yang reported. “What do we do?”

 

Ruby waved a hand dismissively. “No time for them. We have to keep moving, I'll kick it to the Saudis to take care of. What're we gonna do with them anyway, let them ride on the tank?”

“Hey, it's more armor for us...” Yang suggested.

“Pretty sure that's a violation of the Geneva Conventions,” Blake commented, driving them out of the area.

 

_So, that was first combat,_ Ruby thought. _Not what I expected._ Ruby relayed the news of the achievements her and Jaune's platoons had been able to make to Central, who congratulated them for knocking out an Iraqi artillery outpost. New orders came in soon enough, to keep up the advance and destroy any and every opposition before them.

 

If they all surrendered like these guys just did, then this war would be easy.

 

The radio broke through with static, followed up by a panicked voice from Ruby's platoon. “Iraqi armor! Bearing 195!”

“Fuck,” Yang muttered, swinging the turret to the called-out direction. “You see them, Ruby? What's it look like, T-72s or Chicom crap?”

“Hold on,” Ruby replied, scanning the horizon. Nothing so far. She didn't even see tread tracks in the sand, a possible indicator of where the enemy might have been or where they went. Was that sergeant just panicking, and seeing things that weren't there, or had the Iraqis retreated to better terrain?

 

“There he is!” Weiss shouted. “Bearing 197, range 800 meters!”

“That's confirmed,” Ruby said. “Looks like a T-55, Yang.”

“Oh yeah, I see the little fucker. Weiss, we still got HE loaded?”

“Loading APFSDS,” Weiss reported, throwing open the breech to replace their ammo. After a few seconds, she closed the breech again, turning away. “Loaded!”

“Firing!”

 

Once again, the gun recoiled as it sent the round downrange, ejecting the spent shell onto the turret basket. Ruby watched through her periscope as the Iraqi tank exploded, sending the turret sky-high. Yang let out a loud whoop, cheering her own accuracy. The celebration was short-lived, however; two more Iraqi tanks appeared on the horizon.

 

“Got two more, about 800 meters out, bearing 200.”

“More T-55s, huh?”

Weiss again loaded the required ammo, calling out when the gun was loaded. Blake stopped the tank, keeping them steady for Yang's next shots. One after the other, the Iraqi tanks stopped in their tracks as 120mm rounds went through their armor, destroying the engines and, in the case of the third one, blowing up the ammo again. The second tank went up in flames, with the crew desperately trying to wrangle their way out of the burning tank through hatches that were entirely too small.

 

“I dunno about you guys,” Yang said, smiling wide, “but if I were the Iraqis? I'd be asking China for a refund on these tanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Blake said, irritated. “Let me know if any of you see a river. I need to purify myself.”


	39. New Challengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RWBY encounters a surprise enemy in the Iraqi desert.

_All Along the Watchtower_ played softly, radiating from Yang's cassette player as they thundered across the desert. Ruby continually scanned the horizon with her periscopes, looking for any threats. Could never be too careful, after all.

“Next time, I get to pick the music,” Weiss commented. “I hate Jimi Hendrix.”

“Can't wait to hear Wagner on repeat, then,” Blake replied.

“I listen to more than just classical music, you know.”

“Yeah,” Yang chimed in, “sometimes you venture into the wonderful music of the 30's.”

 

“Oh, excuse me,” Weiss said, faking offense. “Do you not like jazz?”

“Not when I have Hendrix and The Doors, no.”

“Oh my God, Yang,” Ruby said, “you're so much like Dad.”

“Hey, you're one to talk, Ruby, you practically worship Creedence Clearwater Revival.”

 

Once again, their radio crackled as Central began broadcasting. It had been a while since they had gotten an update from headquarters.

“All 1AD callsigns, be advised, Poncho reports a brigade-sized element of enemy tanks southwest of Al Jahra, uh, we have CAS engaging now, but some stragglers might intercept the Marines. Keep a lookout for them, over.”

“Understood, Central,” Ruby replied, realigning herself to begin scanning the horizon again. They weren't that far from Al Jahra, if Weiss's navigational skills were correct. So far, it all looked clear, but as Ruby had quickly learned from their previous engagement, things could change fast. It paid to be vigilant.

 

“Hey,” Ruby said, taking her eyes off her periscopes for a split second, “turn that music off. I don't want to be distracted if Iraqi tanks show up.”

“Yeah, one sec,” Yang replied, pausing the music for at least a while.

“How's it looking out there?” Blake asked. “My scopes are clear.”

“Nothing so far,” Ruby reported. “We got AP loaded?”

“APFSDS loaded,” Weiss said. “Thirty rounds of that left, four HE, six HEAT.”

 

They crested another dune, and as they did so, Ruby saw the telltale signs of a dug-in foe. Exhaust smoke crept up from small holes in the ground, and even if their paint gave them a degree of camouflage in the desert, it was easy to locate the enemy's position.

“Dead ahead,” Ruby reported, “looks like a platoon of dug-in T-55s, Yang.”

“Yeah, I got them in my sights. What's that range, about a full klick out?”

“I believe so,” Weiss replied.

“Fuck yeah, we outrange these assholes,” Yang said, grinning. “Let's wreck these 55s and go home, yeah?”

“Platoon,” Ruby said over her platoon's channel, “fire at will.”

 

The sound of guns, mixing with fire from their own tank, echoed across the desert as Ruby's platoon sent devastating shots at the enemy T-55s, wrecking a majority of them within seconds. Several enemy tanks received near-misses, but these were quickly followed up with another tank's gun rectifying the mistake.

 

Something was odd. These T-55s weren't retreating like the others had. They weren't trying to advance. If anything, they were holding strong, a contrast to previous engagements reported across the front, and even a difference in previous battles Ruby had fought in. What was going on?

 

Ruby soon figured out when a round bounced off of their turret, sending a ringing wave through their ears. On instinct, she slammed her hands up to her ears, trying to stop the ringing from escalating. In her peripheral vision, she could see Weiss doing the same as Yang scanned, trying to figure out where the shot came from.

“Fuck!” Blake shouted. “I thought we outranged them! What the _fuck?_ ”

“I dunno,” Yang said, “maybe it's those bigger guns you guys were talking about?”

“They don't have the fire control systems!” Weiss replied. “How many enemy tanks are out there?”

 

Ruby took in the view through her periscopes again, searching the wrecks for any hidden combatants. So far, none. She had counted at least a dozen destroyed T-55s, or maybe Chinese Type 69s. It was hard to tell, really. The only other tanks around were either friendly, or rapidly advancing Iraqi T-55s.

 

Wait. _Advancing?_ Why were they advancing? They hadn't even so much as dented any tanks in Ruby's platoon yet. The hit _We Burn_ got was only a glancing shot, bouncing harmlessly off their armor. So why did they think charging was a good idea? Ruby scanned again. She must have missed something. Wait, she saw it now. There were more dust trails now. Those weren't coming from the T-55s, those were…

 

Those were Iraqi T-72s.

 

“Fuck!” Ruby shouted, eyes wide. “T-72s! Dead ahead!”

“Oh fuck me,” Yang said, pausing as she scanned the horizon. “I don't see them! Are you _sure_ you see 72s?”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Ruby replied. “They're out there, just trust me!”

The engine roared, a sign Blake had spotted the T-72s as well and was now maneuvering to keep their heavy frontal armor pointed at the enemy. They couldn't risk exposing their side armor to the enemy's 125mm gun. Even if they wanted to believe the intel reports, the old ammo in Iraqi reserves could still penetrate their side armor.

 

“Goddammit, Blake,” Yang yelled, “keep her steady! I can't get a shot on these guys if we're bouncing around!”

“You have a fucking computer to do that shit for you!” Blake shouted back. “Just keep the damn thing on that tank!”

Another round bounced off their turret. Panicked radio transmissions echoed with the bouncing rounds, telling the tale of Ruby's platoon trying to fire and maneuver against the enemy T-72s and seeking guidance. On her left, the gun violently ejected another shell, and Yang called out that she had taken out a T-72 that was tracking them. One down, who knew how many to go.

 

“This is _Danger Close_ _,_ ” one of Ruby's platoon sergeants said, “we're immobile, I think our track got hit.”

“Son of a bitch,” Yang sighed. “How many fucking 72s are out there? Can anyone figure that out?”

“I'm counting ten...no, at least twenty enemy tanks,” Weiss relayed, peering out her scopes.

“Got an entire goddamn company out here,” Blake commented.

 

“Fall back if you can,” Ruby ordered, “keep your armor facing them. _Danger Close,_ we'll stick by you, knock out as many as you can, yeah?”

“You got it, Captain,” _Danger Close_ replied.

Immediately, Blake threw the tank in reverse, retreating from the battle just as quickly as they had crashed onto the scene. Ruby watched rounds from Iraqi tanks scream by their tank, just inches away from bouncing off their armor again.

 

“Fucking bullshit,” Yang said, shaking her head as she tracked and killed another Iraqi tank, “we shouldn't be retreating, we can take these assholes on.”

“I'd prefer to get out of this campaign _alive_ , thank you,” Weiss said.

“We're gonna retreat,” Ruby replied, “because it's the smart thing to do. Jaune's platoon is right behind us. We can't take on an Iraqi armored company with one platoon, even _with_ our gun and armor.”

“Bull _shit_ we can't! Their rounds were bouncing off our armor like they were fucking superballs!”

 

“If those 72s maneuver right,” Blake said, “they can easily hit our engine, or our ammo. I don't much like the idea of fighting a fire and a T-72 at the same time.”

“Not to mention,” Ruby added, “they could _kill_ one of us. They could kill _all_ of us if they get a good shot.”

“Fucking _**fuck!**_ ” Yang shouted. “Stop _fucking_ talking like that! None of us are dying in this shithole, _got it?_ Are we going to act like we have the best tank in the world or not?”

“I'm not sacrificing this tank so we can claim a few kills, Yang, retreating is the best option we have against these numbers. Just hold tight, Jaune's platoon will be here soon.”

 

Ruby turned away from her sister, looking out her periscope once again. The Iraqi tanks were holding their ground as well, content to sit on their side of the battlefield as long as they outnumbered Ruby and her platoon.

 

“Hey,” Yang said after about an hour of sitting around, waiting for _Danger Close_ to fix their track, “bet I can nail that T-72 from here?”

“Wait until night to test your gunnery,” Ruby advised. “I don't want them to have a clear shot at us just yet. Those 72s don't have night vision.”

“Aw man, I wanted to fuck them up.”

“Yeah, I know you do, but we have to wait.”

 

Night soon fell, and just as predicted, the Iraqi tanks kept to their positions. However, their infrared searchlights were useless without ambient light, while the M1A1's advanced night vision perfectly lit up the silhouetted T-72s. All they needed to do now was line up their shots and get good hits. At this range, they risked hitting the turret and bouncing off depending on the angle, but they might still get a good hit.

 

“Platoon,” Ruby called out, “fire after me. They can't see us in this darkness.”

Weiss loaded a fresh round in, signaling to Yang to fire when ready. She obliged, firing the 120mm shell downrange and striking the lead Iraqi tank square on the upper frontal plate, which was immediately followed up by an explosion.

“Nice shot,” Ruby said, “I see lots of little pieces down there.”

“That's what you get for storing ammo in the turret floor, asshole!”

Like a well-oiled machine, the spent casing was ejected and Weiss was already loading a new one in, with their turret swinging to engage the next threat. One after the other, Iraqi tanks were destroyed, helpless to fire back in the dead of night. Within minutes,  the Iraqi threat was eliminated, and they could now move on to their next objective in the morning, Al Jahra.


	40. Al Jahra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JNPR tries to understand the destruction the USAF has wrought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update for this week because 1, the chapters are a bit shorter than usual, and 2, I'm moving next month and won't be able to hold to my usual updating schedule. Next week will also be a double update! Enjoy!

“What...the... _fuck?”_

 

Husks of burnt-out tanks were mixed with wrecked vehicles, with no clear line between military and civilian, on the road ahead of them. Off in the distance, Jaune could hear the distinct low buzz of an A-10's gun, probably claiming more victims. There were radios still on inside some of the vehicles, panicked Arabic mingling with otherwise lovely local music. Through it all, wounded men could also be heard, crying out for some kind of relief from either the hot desert sun or their wounds, whichever was causing them more pain at the time.

 

“This was a turkey shoot,” Ren said, “this isn't war. It's _murder_.”

“Delta 3-3,” Ruby said over the radio, “you guys seeing this?”

“Yeah, we see it,” Jaune replied, doing his best to avoid taking in too many smells or sights.

“Any idea what we do now?”

“Just keep moving, I guess. Central said engage anything still moving on this highway.”

 

“What?” Ren asked, his voice full of anger. “What if there's still _people_ here?”

“If they're in the convoy, logically they must be Iraqi,” Pyrrha said. “There can't be many civilians around here.

“Bullshit,” Ren retorted. “We don't know who's who out here. We can't tell if we're firing on a civilian or military target.”

“Yeah, I dunno,” Nora chimed in, “this doesn't feel right. Like, shit, look at how many tanks we wrecked already. Do the Iraqis even have anything left?”

 

“What's this asshole in the van think he's trying to do?” Ruby asked over the radio.

Jaune immediately drew his attention away from his crew's argument, searching for the rogue van. It didn't take long to find – the small white van was weaving in and between wrecks, on a hellrun right for them. He couldn't tell for sure, but Jaune was sure he saw uniforms in the vehicle. It only made sense – who else would be insane enough to challenge a M1A1 Abrams to the world's deadliest game of chicken?

 

“Nora,” Jaune ordered solemnly, “open fire on that van.”

“Fuck no,” Ren said, “don't shoot them! They're civilians!”

“What kind of civilian drives right for a tank?!” Pyrrha demanded, encouraging Nora to start firing.

“Don't you dare fire that gun, Nora,” Ren warned, having stopped the tank.

“NORA!” Jaune shouted. “OPEN FIRE, THAT'S AN ORDER!”

 

Whether Nora ever fired the gun was immaterial; seconds after Jaune had reiterated his orders, the van exploded, the successful shot coming from a tank in Ruby's platoon. The van screeched to a halt, no more than a hundred meters away from them, now missing the rear axle and half the body.

 

“God fucking dammit,” Ren said, throwing off his headset and opening the hatch.

“Ren, where are you going?” Pyrrha asked.

“This area isn't clear, Ren!” Jaune reminded him, but the danger didn't seem to affect Ren.

“ _Shit,_ ” Nora said, climbing out of the tank to join Ren.

 

Jaune looked over to Pyrrha, who shrugged her shoulders before climbing out as well. Jaune quickly ordered the platoon to hold and await further instructions, also letting Ruby know that his platoon had stopped for the moment. That done, he too got out of _Boop_ , seeing Ren kneeling on the sand next to the highway, with Nora and Pyrrha by his side. Jaune headed over, growing angrier and angrier the closer he got.

 

“What the fuck,” he said as he got within earshot, “are we just deciding for ourselves what orders to follow now?”

“This isn't right,” Ren muttered, “this isn't right at all.”

“Come on,” Jaune said, waving them back, “let's get in the tank and go on with our mission. We gotta go.”

“I'm not getting back in that tank with you, Jaune,” Ren said, still staring ahead into the endless desert.

“What? Why?”

 

Ren took a deep breath, before standing up off the sand. “I don't know what happened to you, Jaune. You're not the same officer I knew last year.”

“Ren...” Nora said, putting a hand on his shoulder, which he immediately brushed away.

“What...what are you saying, Ren?” Pyrrha asked.

“You've gotten reckless, Jaune, and that's not the officer I studied with. That's not the man I know. The Jaune I know doesn't shoot first, ask questions later.”

 

“We have our orders, Ren,” Jaune replied, trying very hard to maintain his cool while his character was under assault. “You heard Central. Everything is hostile in this zone.”

“No, I didn't hear Central, _you_ heard Central. _You_ interpreted their orders wrong, Jaune. Our mission here doesn't include shooting up civilian vehicles!”

“Ren,” Pyrrha said, stepping between the two men, “you saw that van. It was heading right for us. Who could have been driving it other than an Iraqi?”

“I don't know,” Ren said. “I just know that I'm not going back in that tank. Not if Jaune's going to ask Nora to shoot another civilian vehicle.”

 

“I'm not going to ignore direct orders, Ren,” Jaune said, “and neither should any of you. We don't have the luxury of deciding what is and isn't right here. We're at _war._ ”

“Just because we're at war doesn't mean we have to abandon our ideals,” Ren countered. “Promise me, then. Promise me you'll confirm our orders with Central.”

“Oh for the love of...” Jaune muttered. “Alright, fine. I'll ask Central to confirm. Maybe something changed, I don't know. Will you just get back in the damn tank already?”

Ren nodded slowly, keeping his angry eyes on Jaune as he brushed past him to head to _Boop._ Right behind him, Nora and Pyrrha began walking back as well, and soon they were back underway. It was clear that neither Jaune or Ren considered this over, not by a long shot.

 

“I hope we never have to see this again,” Ren said as they began driving away. “Too much death. I hope Blake's doing alright.”

“Huh?” Nora asked. “Whaddya mean?”

“She's Shinto, remember? This place must be terrifying to her.”

“I'm sure she'll be fine,” Pyrrha said. “She has her friends close by.”


	41. Too Damn Hot for Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team JNPR moves on past Al Jahra.

The platoon moved on past Al Jahra, spreading out to cover more ground. Rogue Iraqi tanks had been spotted by recon, but most of the forward units didn't have any anti-tank weapons serious enough to destroy them. Therefore, the duty fell on the 1st Armored Division, thundering across the desert on a hunt for the robber barons of Kuwait.

 

But so far, Jaune didn't see anything. Other than the hulls of T-55s destroyed by helicopters and roaming A-10s, there wasn't much out here. The desert was endless, but still he felt like he couldn't see beyond about five hundred meters. Every time he blinked, he swore he saw a tan Iraqi tank, waiting to open up on them if they made the wrong move.

 

Wait, something _was_ moving. What was that? A T-55? No, the hull didn't look right. Maybe a Chinese tank? Wait, no, they have the same general layout as the 55s. That...that was?

 

_Oh no._

 

_“_ _S_ _hit,_ ” Jaune said. “T-72! Nine o'clock!”

Nora desperately tried to slew the turret, but in the panic of the battle, her hand slipped. Pyrrha yelled at her to keep the turret moving and to target the T-72 to their left, to little avail. Through the periscope, Jaune saw a plume of smoke coming out of the T-72's barrel. That could only mean one thing.

“INCOMING!”

A solid _clang_ rocked the inside of _Boop_ , ringing their ears like church bells at start of service. Disoriented, Jaune looked around, trying to assess the situation, his vision clouded. He checked himself first – no wounds. Must not have been a HEAT round, otherwise they all would have been dead. Electronics were down. Engine had stopped working. Bad situation made worse by a penetrating shot.

“Get the fuck out!” Jaune ordered, rapidly scrambling with what little motor functions he had left to open his hatch. Right next to him, Nora was doing the same thing.

One by one, _Boop_ 's crew exited the tank through their various hatches, dusting sand off of themselves upon getting out of the tank. Jaune wasn't sure what sort of damage _Boop_ had sustained, but it was better to be safe than dead. He looked around – where was Pyrrha?

“Anyone?” Pyrrha asked over the headset. “I can't feel my legs. Can someone help me?”

Jaune, Ren and Nora stared at each other, before each rushed back up on their tank. Jaune was first to reach Pyrrha's hatch, throwing it open to see her lying on the turret floor, staring up at them.

 

And from the waist below, Pyrrha's uniform was soaked in blood.

 

Jaune swung himself back into the turret, ignoring any potential danger from the T-72 that was still lurking about. He took stock of Pyrrha's legs – they looked like they had been shredded. Their medkit wouldn't be enough to patch this up.

“Ren! Call for CASEVAC, now!” Jaune moved next to Pyrrha, lifting her up onto his shoulders so he could help her get out of the tank. Nora was on the other side of the roof, ready to grab Pyrrha in case she was too weak to lift herself up.

 

“Delta 3-3,” Jaune's radio crackled, “be advised, CASEVAC is on its way. Hold tight, out.”

Ignoring the radio, Jaune and Nora slowly and carefully lowered Pyrrha off of _Boop_ and to the sand below. Ren had scampered off somewhere, jumping back on the tank for some reason. Jaune was by Pyrrha's side the entire time, unable to do anything but listen to her pained, labored breaths.

“Pyrrha,” Jaune said, meeting her panic-filled eyes. “It's okay. I'm right here. It's going to be alright.”

 

“Jesus, Jaune,” Nora said grimly, “look at her fucking legs.”

Jaune didn't _want_ to look. He had seen enough when he dived into the turret to recover her. He knew as much as anyone else that this was _bad._ Below him, Pyrrha tried to sit herself up, placing her elbows under her. Jaune held a hand on her shoulder, keeping her from moving.

“Don't look,” Jaune advised. “CASEVAC's on its way.”

“Hot,” Pyrrha muttered as she slumped over, weak. In a flash, Nora had taken off her field jacket, holding it behind Pyrrha's head to keep the shade off. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ren toss tarps and rolls they kept on the tank  to the ground .  Jaune recognized what he was doing – gathering materials to make a stretcher.

 

He headed over, working to put together a makeshift stretcher using anything and everything available to him. It was slow going. Ren had taken it upon himself to examine the tank, looking for what Jaune didn't know. He looked up for a brief moment, watching Pyrrha's head loll about from side to side.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Nora said, tapping her on the shoulder with her boot, “keep your eyes open, okay? I know you're tired, I really do, but you gotta stay awake 'till the helo gets here, yeah?”

Jaune could tell Nora was legitimately panicked. Her voice went up  in pitch, something that almost never happened.  _No time to panic,_ Jaune thought,  _gotta distract her._

“Nora!” Jaune shouted, drawing her attention. “Help me with this, will you?”

“But, Pyrrha -”

“Just help me out! We can't move her without a stretcher!”

 

Nora looked around, before grabbing one of their toolboxes off the outside turret basket and tenting Pyrrha's head with it and her field jacket. She soon joined Jaune, helping him make the stretcher and running back to give Pyrrha water when she could. Where the hell was Ren? Pyrrha suddenly cried out in pain, and it was taking everything in Jaune to not climb back into  _Boop_ and go on a one-man mission to destroy every T-72 from here to Baghdad.

 

After fifteen minutes, a UH-60 arrived, bearing medical symbols. The three rushed Pyrrha to the waiting medical team, where a medico helped get her into the craft and out of the makeshift stretcher.

“Keep her alive, goddammit!” Nora shouted through tears, about two steps from climbing into the helicopter and flying it to the hospital herself. “If she dies, I'm coming for each and every one of you!”

“Lieutenant Nikos,” the medico shouted above the sound of the rotors, ignoring Nora, “it's okay, you're going to be alright.”

Another medic, captain by the looks of it, looked at their tank. “That thing still work?”

“No, engine's fucked,” Ren replied. “Can we get a ride with you?”

“Ain't got the room,” he shouted back, shaking his head. “I'll see about getting you guys a ride, hang tight.”

 

Another ten minutes passed, almost a lifetime for them without Pyrrha. Ren later reported to Jaune that, other than the shot that had wounded Pyrrha, the T-72 apparently had decided to fill their engine with 12.7mm rounds, disabling it entirely. Electronics, the engine, and hydraulics were all down. There was no way _Boop_ would be moving under her own power anytime soon. Eventually, word got back to their command, and a recovery team was sent to pick up the tank, alongside an M113 that they rode back to the FOB in.

 

The ride back to base was marked with silence, and barely concealed glares from Ren directed at Jaune. He didn't need to be a mindreader to know what Ren was saying. _You caused this. This is all_ _ **your**_ _fault._

 

Truthfully? Ren was absolutely right. It _was_ Jaune's fault.


	42. I'd Love to Change the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team RWBY continues the push into Iraq.

“Sounds like Jaune's tank got knocked out,” Ruby said, relaying the reports over the command channel to Weiss, Yang and Blake.

“Shit,” Yang said. “They alright?”

“I dunno, all Central is saying is that there was one wounded. Don't know who.”

“Let's hope they make it out alright,” Blake said somberly.

 

“Come on, focus,” Weiss reminded. “We have a job to do.”

At the moment, their platoon was right behind them, heading towards Baghdad. There was still a lot of minesweeping to do ahead of them, and the areas that were and weren't unsafe changed every hour. All they could do was go where the engineers said were safe, and look for hostile contact.

 

Unusually, they began to slow. “The hell are these guys doing?” Blake asked, rolling up on a halted convoy.

“Looks like engineers,” Yang speculated. “Want me to check it out?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Go ahead and dismount, take the Grease Gun with you.”

 

Ruby opened up her hatch, charging the M2 Browning's handle to put it in battery. Next to her, Weiss did the same thing but with a mounted M240, and they both scanned the horizon for potential threats. Between the two machine guns, Yang climbed out of the tank, carrying the ubiquitous Grease Gun in her hands.

 

She hopped down, landing softly on the torn-up tarmac below them. Yang waved down one of the engineers, talking to them. It looked like their conversation was pretty animated, judging by Yang's posture and the wild gestures of the engineer.

“Yeah,” Yang said, talking to _We Burn_ through her headset's radio. “Engies are complaining about some BMPs in the area, they're trying to demine this place or something? I dunno, this dude's pretty jumpy. Keeps talking about them 'coming back' or some shit.”

“Well, hell,” Ruby declared, “we're sitting ducks out here, get back in and let's roll.”

 

Yang agreed, moving to head back to _We Burn._ Just as she had decided to do so, Ruby heard the unmistakeable sound of tracks. Those didn't sound friendly – another M1 would have had a higher-pitched whine to its engine. This was lower, more like a diesel engine. The sound of the return rollers also was higher, like there were fewer of them, and carrying a lighter track. Beyond a nearby hillcrest, an Iraqi BMP-2 rolled onto the scene, leveling its 30mm autocannon towards them.

“Shit!” Ruby shouted, ducking into the safety of her tank.

Blake peered through her periscopes, getting ready to start moving. “What the fuck's going on out there?!”

“All channels, Hotel 1-1 has been engaged by a BM-!”

The engineer broadcasting the danger was cut off as the dull, repeating _thump_ of the BMP's autocannon thundered across the area.

 

Even through the sound of their engine, Ruby could hear autocannon fire tear up the ground outside, the explosive rounds echoing across the desert. Just as quickly, screams replaced the fading explosions. Where was Yang? She should have been back in the tank by now. Ruby peered out one of her scopes – a rocket trail came from one of the engineer's positions, destroying the BMP and sending its turret into the sky.

 

All remained quiet for some time. They cautiously waited for something, anything, to happen, a sign that the danger was over. Eventually, both the engineers and _We Burn_ 's crew decided it was all-clear, allowing Ruby to open up her hatch to try to find Yang.

 

She scanned what remained of the makeshift position where she had last seen Yang, but only saw dust, concrete barriers ripped up by 30mm HE rounds, and scattered equipment, tools, and weapons lying around. She saw bodies, none of them her sister's. Where was she? Ruby tried hailing her over the tank's radio, but got silence in response.

 

Disregarding her duty, Ruby jumped off her tank, with Weiss and Blake close behind, scrambling to get out of their hatches to join in the search. They looked at each wounded soldier on the ground, trying to find their beloved teammate. Ruby passed by each fallen comrade with barely a passing interest, half-conscious of Blake and Weiss performing basic first aid on anyone they could.

 

And then, Ruby finally saw her, lying out in a relatively untouched part of the area.

 

Relief washed over her. Yang was safe, just lying on her side. Ruby ran to her sister, two steps away from breaking down in happy tears.

“Yang,” she said, getting ready to roll her sister over to see her face. “I'm so happy you're-”

That was when Ruby saw that Yang's right hand no longer existed. Her arm was a bloody stump from the elbow down; perhaps more disturbingly, Yang didn't appear to be reacting to anything that was happening. Her eyes were glazed over, staring into the sky with a thousand-yard look as she took short, rapid breaths.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Blake muttered.

Weiss was already on the radio, simultaneously calling for more medical assistance and shouting at the engineers to help them.

“Yang?” Ruby asked, unsure whether her sister could even hear her.

 

Ruby lost track of time as she waited for the evac. She didn't even want to leave Yang's side, afraid that if she took a step back, Yang would slip away forever, and her family would be one less once again. The only thing that got her to move were the medics when they arrived, urging her that she _had_ to let them take Yang away, get her to medical care. The Golden Window was fading fast, they said, if they didn't get her to the field hospital now, they couldn't guarantee her survival.

 

How had it come to pass like this?

 

None of them were supposed to get _hurt_.

 

* * *

 

 

Their platoon had stopped in Basra, for rest and refit. All of them were here – Jaune, Nora, Ren, now joined by Blake, Weiss and Ruby. Both crews now had one less, their old comrades replaced by fresh faces nobody respected. _Boop_ had been towed back to this area, and Ruby could clearly see the signs of a penetrating shot. If Ruby had studied the M1A1's anatomy right, then the shot would have to have gone right where Pyrrha would have been standing.

 

“Any news?” Jaune asked, seeing what remained of _We Burn_ 's crew walking into the motor pool.

“No,” Ruby said. “What about Pyrrha?”

“Nothing,” Jaune replied.

Ruby let out a sad sigh. The _one_ thing she had promised Dad, and she had to go and break it. Should never have let Yang out of the tank. Should have taken manual control, hit that BMP when it crested. Ruby was a qualified gunner – she could have made that shot. They were already loaded with HEAT rounds, would have destroyed it far faster than the M72 the engineers had.

 

“Hey,” someone shouted, from a unit Ruby didn't recognize. Wasn't 1AD. “You guys hear the good news?”

The six tankers shook their heads. They hadn't had any time to catch up on much of anything.

“Saddam signed the peace treaty. We won, y'all. We're _headin' home!”_ The soldier let out a loud whoop, heading off to celebrate with his friends.

 

“Doesn't feel like much of a victory,” Nora commented.

 

* * *

 

 

With the end of hostilities, a choice came at high speed for the survivors. Pyrrha and Yang's military careers were over with their injuries preventing them from ever holding a combat position again, and both rejected the idea of taking a non-combat role. So, for the six who were left, their time was served. They could re-up and stay in the Army, or leave. It was all squarely their decision.

 

Nora and Ren made theirs immediately. They didn't want to spend another minute longer in Iraq, and both decided to let their contracts run dry. They sought refuge in their choice with each other, refusing to let Jaune talk them out of maybe staying.

 

Blake and Weiss had a more difficult time reaching their decision. They had some time to mull it over, of course, but the Army wanted its answer soon to allocate forces and figure transfers out if necessary. Until they had decided, they remained in the Basra motor pool.

 

“I don't know,” Blake said, lazily stabbing a plate of eggs. “I think I just want to go back home for a bit.”

“That'd be nice, yeah,” Weiss muttered. “Winter's been worried sick about me.”

“We'll all be getting leave soon...” Ruby said, trying to pitch something positive their way.

“Yeah, leave will be nice, but...I don't know.”

“Come on, Blake,” Ruby pleaded. “We're a team, right?”

 

“We are,” Blake said. “But...this isn't what I thought I was getting myself into.”

“Well, what _did_ you expect?” Weiss asked.

“I don't know, the same thing we'd been seeing since '84? A collapsing Soviet Union, powerless to do anything? I didn't think I'd be the vanguard for the world police.”

Weiss slumped over in her chair, almost depressed. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

 

Blake continued to mess with the eggs, totally disinterested in actually eating them. Finally, she put the fork down, looking Ruby right in the eyes.

“I'm sorry, Ruby,” she said. “I can't do this anymore. I have to go back home.”

Ruby fought back tears. _Not like this,_ she thought. _I don't want to lose my team._

Next to her, Weiss left her chair, turning away from Ruby.

“Not you too?” Ruby asked.

“I have nothing but respect for you as an officer, Ruby,” Weiss said. “I can't bear to see another one of my friends hurt. If I were you, I'd get out.”

 

Weiss took a deep breath, and then walked out of the motor pool, maintaining her usual straight-laced posture. Blake too departed, leaving Ruby alone, and without anyone by her side. Jaune happened to pass by Blake, and saw Ruby by herself. He headed right over to her, wordlessly. He had to have figured out what had happened.

 

“I'm sorry, Ruby,” Jaune said, trying desperately to maintain her spirits even as she broke down in tears in front of him.

“They just... _left_ me,” Ruby sobbed.

“It was a tough call to make, Ruby. They didn't make it lightly.”

Silence. Only Ruby's stilted breaths, fuel for more tears, could be heard.

“It'll be alright, Ruby.”

“No, it _won't_ be, Jaune. It's just us, now. How am I supposed to spring back from that?”

 

Jaune suddenly pulled away, looking to the ground. Even through her tears, Ruby wasn't dumb enough to miss what this meant.

“ _Et tu, Brute?_ ”

“I...Pyrrha getting wounded was my fault. I...I don't want to leave her alone. I can't.”

“Just...leave me the hell alone, Jaune,” Ruby said quietly. Slowly, Jaune got up and left, his footsteps fading away until the only sounds that could be heard were idling engines and the occasional jet flying by.

 

Now she really _was_ alone. Not even Jaune would stand by her side at this juncture.


	43. I Forgot to Remember to Forget

It was like it all had happened just a second ago. All of those memories, all those stories, every little moment of their lives that, at that time, was the most important thing in the world, fresh in their minds despite the intervening years since.

 

Ruby wasn't sure how long they had spent at this bar. They had reunited once again, her, Weiss, Yang, Blake, Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren, another sunrise with her sad captains. Ruby was the only one to remain in the military, but only for another two years before deciding to leave. Each of them had gone their own ways, save Ren and Nora of course, but tonight – or today, what did it matter – they were back at Beacon, back at the Irish pub they once called home. They had all gathered here for a ten-year reunion ceremony, a chance to celebrate graduation again, and remember those who had been lost along the way.

 

They had traded stories, reminisced together, and given each other the latest news. Ren and Nora had finally returned from their honeymoon, back from a place nobody could remember after the night of drinks. Blake returned to the solace of her little island, happy to just be for a while. Jaune stayed close to Pyrrha, unwilling to let her out of his sight for too long, despite her pleas that she really didn't need his help, but equally unwilling to let him leave. Weiss returned to Germany, not to run the family business, but teach a new generation of German soldiers how to lead. For Yang, the loss of her arm had been accidentally fortuitous, leading to her finding a new home in Poland with her wife, in stark defiance of the traumatic injury that still shadowed her face each time she glanced at the stump.

 

As for herself, Ruby had contemplated taking up the offer to teach at Beacon, an advisory role to the military science class now that Colonel Port had long since passed. Until she had figured the next step out, she settled between office jobs, looking for something that at least matched the thrill and excitement of the military. She didn't want to admit nothing ever would.

 

But, as the night went on and turned into day, and as the well of anecdotes, stories, and good memories ran dry, each old soldier couldn't help but to remember the bad times. Blake and Weiss remembered with laughs their ancient antagonism, but all of them could see Blake still concealed contempt for the German. Weiss too still privately believed Blake was too idealistic, but never said anything publicly.

 

It wasn't hard to see Jaune still regretful over the day _Boop's_ crew last rode together, the same day Pyrrha's career in the military came to an end sooner than any of theirs. She had adjusted easily to the loss of her legs, but past that day in Iraq? She barely contributed, and Ruby could tell she felt left out. And poor Jaune, he always held himself personally responsible for that. It had been his first and only casualty under his command, a permanent stain and reminder.

 

Figuring out where Nora and Ren stood on that day was difficult. Ruby had once heard that Ren blamed Jaune for Pyrrha's injury, and had never forgiven him. The fact they were friends was mostly only for Nora's sake, it appeared, and less because he actually wanted to keep in contact with him. Nora recalled that day with a bitter smile, trying hard to mask the terror she must have had in her face when she looked down into the turret to see Pyrrha's legs just _gone_. Like a lot of things, if she was affected by it, Nora didn't want to show anyone.

 

They all tried hard, too, to forget the Highway of Death, the rank smell that permeated through their nostrils even now, interrupting the otherwise pleasant smell of their beers of choice. Silence was the king here, and they were all subjects of its terrible rule. Slowly, and one by one, they departed, each citing a different reason for leaving until only Ruby and Yang remained at the table, warm beers in their hands.

 

“Mom would've been proud of us, you know,” Yang said after God-knows how long.

“For what?” Ruby asked. “Wrecking a piece of the world we had no place being in?”

“Nah. Lemme tell you something, Ruby,” Yang stretched her back out, trying to relax. “When we had our first leave – back in '84, you remember?”

“Yeah. Christmas, the year Dad forgot Qrow hated lima beans.”

“Mhm,” Yang said, nodding and smiling softly at the memory. Ruby knew Yang had never _really_ forgiven Qrow. Ruby would never understand why she had ever gotten angry with him and stopped talking to him back in '87, though. Things seemed to be going a bit better between them now. Yang at least had brief conversations with him when she and Walentyna visited for Christmas.

 

“Remember when Uncle Qrow and I went out shopping on New Year's?” Yang said. “He told me how, when he and Mom were on their last mission, Mom said she hoped that Vietnam wouldn't change them.”

“What does that mean?”

 

“He told me that he wasn't always a jerk, that he used to actually care. That Raven didn't want to betray her country. That Dad's been hiding his nightmares from us for years. He said he didn't know what Mom would have been like after Vietnam, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see it. He and Mom always said that war changed people, and he didn't want to see us changed by it. I think he knew we might've been going off to Iraq sooner than we did.”

 

“Anyway,” Yang continued after downing a bit of her beer, “he said that out of all of us in our squad, he hoped you and I didn't let war affect us. I dunno whether he meant he didn't want to see us get used to it or what, but hell, Ruby, you're the same optimistic girl I knew when we first walked onto campus here. You're a hell of a sister, Ruby, and a damn fine officer.”

 

Ruby sighed, avoiding her sister's loving gaze. “Thanks, Yang,” she said, smiling. “It's good to know I did something right.”

The two sisters sat in silence, each finishing what was left of the by-now unappetizing beer.

“You wanna go say hi to Mom while we're here?” Ruby asked.

Yang nodded, and together, they paid their tabs, left a good tip, and exited the bar.

 

The cool night air reminded Ruby of marching to the Ranger Station. It was a memory a lifetime ago, one she hadn't thought of in years, much less had the time to mull over. She wondered what had become of the officer she had called a sergeant all through the march, but decided it didn't matter much in the end.

 

Mom's memorial brick still lay there, near Beacon's crest, joined by various others. Some names she recognized – Commandant Ozpin, for one, was nearby – and others she didn't, but that was okay. She was sure each one of them had a story, and she would welcome the chance to hear them one day.

 

“Yang,” Ruby asked as the sun began to rise, “do you think they'll remember us?”

“Who?”

“Anyone, after we're gone. Is what we did written on stone or in sand?”

“That's...oddly philosophical for you,” Yang admitted. She paused, staring out at the parade field, which was visible from where they were as the sun broke out of the treeline. “Our deeds are written on the hearts of those who were there, in the pain of their wounds, and in the horror of their nightmares,” Yang finally said.

Ruby chuckled. “Who's being philosophical _now?_ ”

Yang cracked a smile, lightly punching her sister on the arm. “Shut up. You know I don't do this shit often.”

 

Ruby smiled, still looking at Mom's brick. It felt good to be back here, even if it was for a short while before she had to return to the real world. It was equally nice being able to talk with all her old friends again, and revisit the memories of their time here at Beacon, the good and the bad both. Yang yawned, saying she had decided to go get some sleep before the day's reunion event. Ruby retired too, far later than she usually would (though, technically earlier in this case).

 

Maybe she _would_ take up teaching at Beacon, Ruby thought as she fell to sleep. That'd be a nice change of pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank you so much first for reading to here, and special thanks to everyone who's helped me out in the past - ArcAngelofJustice, Scrimshawpen, crusader_blue, QuoteMyFoot, corru, AllMadeOfGlass, MagnaCombLatte, TinyOctopus, and anyone else I might be forgetting. Without your help and support I doubt I would have finished this. Again, thank you to everyone who's reviewed, read, and just even clicked on this story.


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